


Acute Angles

by Smittywing (Smitty)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smitty/pseuds/Smittywing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hotch said things have changed, he meant for all of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acute Angles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wojelah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wojelah/gifts).



> For Wojelah's birthday. Last year. *cough*
> 
> Epic thanks to Shetiger for betaing and wrestling the order of the last part with me and generally being a rockstar, to Mingsmommy for betaing and cheerleading and have more enthusiasm for this pairing than anyone I know, Smacky30 for cheerleading and encouragement, to Raisintorte for pushing me to fix what was wrong with the last part and finish it, and of course to Wojelah, for the epic feedback, for letting me drag her into this fandom and for being amazing.

Twenty-three miles away from where Aaron and Jack Hotchner are knotting their ties and preparing to say goodbye to their beloved Haley, Emily Prentiss and David Rossi are going through the motions of a similar tableau.

Dave stands by the window in two-thirds of his best suit, turning a glass of his good Scotch between his hands. The rain streaks down the glass, reflecting in the triple panes. _Three_ , he thinks. Would that have been enough? Would that have kept Foyet out? He doubts it.

Behind him, Emily makes a frustrated noise. Dave glances at his watch and then back to her.

"I can't wear this," she says, staring at herself in the mirror. "It's too low-cut. It's inappropriate. I should have bought something new. Maybe I can find a sweater...."

"Emily," Dave says, hoping to pin her in place with his voice until he can cross the room. It works and he stands behind her, looking at both their reflections. She looks drawn, pale and tired, and the corners of her mouth are tight. She looks lovely, classically feminine in her elegantly-cut dress, swinging dark hair, and understated makeup. He shifts to the side to kiss her temple and when he glances up, the reflection is off-balance, asymmetrical. There should be another dark-haired man on Emily's right, but there's not. They'll have to find new footing for today. "We'll be late," Dave murmurs.

They won't, but Emily nods and tugs half-heartedly at the neckline of her dress. Dave steps away, reaching for his jacket. Emily tucks her hair behind her ears and leans into the mirror, touching her upper lip with her ring finger.

When Dave looks back, she's pinning her hair back in a ponytail. "C'mon," he says with a sigh, touching the small of her back. "I want us to be the first ones at the church."

 _That_ moves her and she picks up the small purse sitting on the dresser and says, "I'm ready."

* * *

Thirteen years ago, when Aaron Hotchner first walked into the BAU bunker, he was so shiny and eager and new, he hurt Dave's eyes. Gideon loved him, Ryan thought he was a riot, and Cole was convinced he was being wasted at the BAU. But Dave was the one he gravitated toward.

Hotch had been noisy about wanting to be there and Dave had turned down his transfer request once, just to make him want it more. It had worked.

Hotch was well on his way to seeing it all, even back then. He'd prosecuted murder cases and been a member of the FBI's SWAT team. He'd killed four men (no women, no children, Dave had noted, because unsubs weren't exclusively male and this might be a problem) and charged into gunfire, hellfire, and all the rest of it.

He was also completely whipped by his fiance and called her ten times a day. Dave was between wives 2 and 3 at the time and was sort of fondly amused by the whole thing. That and the suit and tie that Hotch wore every day. He was the very picture of a G-Man and Dave was glad, because it gave the rest of them a bye.

Hotch was fine for four or five months, or close to fine - he didn't show any chinks at least. Then Dave took him along for a consult, a bloody awful mess where every scene had at least one patrolman retching into the bushes. Hotch soldiered through, but after the collar, after Rossi had taken him to the hotel bar and taught him how smoothly good Scotch could go down, after they stumbled up to the room they shared, that's when he asked the question Dave knew would come eventually. He'd hoped it would go to Gideon or well, anyone but him, but it wasn't like it was a surprise. The presentation was sort of novel, though.

"Can I ask you something personal?" Hotch had asked him, trying to unbutton his shirt without removing his tie. It was fascinating, like the tie had grown to be part of him and Dave wondered what could possibly have informed that sort of behavior.

"Is it something you don't already know?" Dave asked, because they were just learning to teach profiling to the new kids, and they hadn't quite agreed how to do it yet.

Hotch frowned and considered this extremely seriously - far more seriously than the question was really worth. "No," he said. "I don't think there's a way to profile this answer."

"Go on," Dave offered, unbuttoning and shrugging off his own shirt and kicking off his shoes.

"Did you tell your ex-wife about these...things...that we see?" Hotch's voice was calm but Dave was listening for the stress in it and it was there.

"No," Dave said. "I didn't think she'd feel better knowing what kind of monsters are lurking around every corner. It's bad enough that one of us had to know."

"Then you think I shouldn't tell Haley?" Hotch asked.

"Look, kid," Dave said, kicking off his trousers. "I'm not going to tell you what to tell your girl or not to tell her. But you need to ask yourself, why are you doing this job? Are you doing it to protect other people from what's out there? And if so, how are you protecting her if you show her everything?"

Hotch's brow furrowed. "I tried to tell her one night," he said. "And I - I couldn't. Just like you said. I couldn't let those things be a part of her." He finally loosened his tie and pulled the shirt out around it.

"Sounds like you've made your decision," Dave observed, waiting for the next part.

Hotch tugged at the tie and - miracle of miracles - pulled it over his head. "Is it going to hurt our relationship?" he asked, running the strip of fabric through his hands.

Dave chuckled. "If you're asking about my ex," he said, "I did a lot of things to hurt that relationship, but not telling her what Steven Pennell did to the prostitutes he picked up was not one of them."

"Did you fuck around?" Hotch asked.

Dave was about to tell him to mind his own business when several things piled on at once. One, Hotch had a helluva pretty face. Two, that swell in the front of his pants wasn't his service weapon. Three, Hotch was asking if he fucked around.

"Sometimes it helps," Dave said, watching the smooth lines of Hotch's face, "to be with someone who's seen what you've seen. You don't have to try to tell them what's got you so fucked up." Dave knew this firsthand. In country. With his first partner. You got the stress out and the shakes out and you went home and everything was hunky dory.

"You did that," Hotch said, and it wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Dave said. "A few times. You?"

Hotch shook his head. "No," he said. "But."

"You think you might need it?" Dave was hard, too, and he wasn't hiding anything in just his boxers. Hotch hesitated and clenched his fist around the necktie and Dave read him like a book. "I think you might need it, too," he offered.

Hotch looked at him, then, and Dave grinned, reached to curl a hand around Hotch's hip, and that's when Hotch leaned forward and kissed him. Dave hadn't really gone there - a reacharound yeah, sometimes rubbing off against the other guy, but Hotch was awkward and clumsy and if he wanted to kiss, they might as well do it right.

He cuffed Hotch on the back of the neck and kissed him like he'd kiss one of the women he'd seduce at the office. Assertive, powerful, confident. Hotch's mouth wasn't soft under his, though, and he pushed back - probably trying to kiss Dave like he kissed Haley, and wasn't that a hell of a thing.

Dave chuckled, because who knew kissing a man was such a goddamn comedy routine? Hotch pulled back, probably about to be a little miffed, but then Dave cupped him through his pants. Hotch was hot and hard in his hand and Dave pushed gently with the heel of his palm, grinding circles through Hotch's clothing. "Get rid of the rest of this," he said, using his other hand to tug at Hotch's belt.

Hotch scrambled to lose his pants and shorts and even pulled his undershirt over his head. "I don't - Dave - " he managed. "Please."

Watching calm, centered, steady Aaron Hotchner be reduced to single syllable words was one hell of a turn-on for Dave. "C'mere," he urged, wrapping one arm around Hotch's shoulders and snugging himself up against Hotch's back. The skin there was heated, smooth, against Dave's bare chest and flat nipples, and the tiny hairs stood up, electrified by the way Dave was touching him. It wasn't doing the least bit of damage to Dave's ego, that was for sure.

He licked his palm and reached around, found Hotch's cock, and weighed it in his hand. Hotch was _hurting_ for this. His dick was fully erect and the head was damp with pre-come. Dave wanted to say, _You're really fucking hot for this, aren't you?_ but he didn't want to spook Aaron, didn't want him to change his mind. So he just started jacking him off, using the short, shallow strokes Dave himself liked. He started at the base, near Hotch's body and worked his way out to the head and back again.

Hotch pushed into Dave's hand and back against him, grinding his ass against Dave's dick. Dave had fucked a guy exactly once but he wondered how easy it would be to just hold his dick and let Hotch slide back and fuck himself on it. He wasn't about to - he was prepared but not _that_ prepared, but it was a nice little fantasy while he rested his forehead against Hotch's shoulder and continued to wring the tension and anxiety out of Hotch.

"Dave," Hotch said suddenly. "I'm going to come. Soon. Now." His voice was thready with need, that orgasm teasing right behind the words.

"That's the point," Dave said mildly, and dropped his other hand from Hotch's shoulder to snag Hotch's undershirt from the bed. "Here," he said, pressing it into Hotch's hand, and then reached down and took Hotch's balls firmly in his palm.

Hotch came with a choked cry, his body shaking against Dave's and hot semen going into the undershirt Hotch clutched to himself and also spilling out against his stomach and fingers. Dave felt Hotch's dick twitch in his hand and he unfolded his hand carefully, easing off before Hotch got too sensitive. There was a splash of semen on his wrist and he wiped it off on the hem of his own boxers.

Aaron sat down heavily on the bed he'd claimed three nights ago and rested his hands on his knees. He looked shaken and glazed, relieved of some heavy burden but still trying to balance it. In a word, he looked wrecked.

Dave hoped he wasn't going to be one of those kids who had regrets after he got what he wanted, but he remembered how hard it was to put his brain back together after that first time, so he stripped off his own boxers and sat down on his own bed. He was really fucking hard, his idle fantasy of fucking Hotch still echoing in his mind, behind the new images of Hotch rigid and shaking, coming into his own shirt. He wasn't going to give Hotch shit about reciprocation, though, not this time.

He'd only been jacking himself for maybe a minute when Hotch stood up and crossed the room. "How you feeling?" Dave asked, still stroking his dick. He wasn't going to push Hotch, but if Hotch had come over to lend a hand, Dave wasn't about to protest, either.

Hotch went down on his knees and Dave forgot to breathe. He widened his legs, giving Hotch plenty of room to work, and leaned back on the bed, bracing on his hands. Hotch reached for him, took Dave's dick in his hand, rubbed his thumb from base to head. Dave didn't care if he used his hand or his mouth or a fucking potholder but he wanted Hotch to hurry up. He was going to get blue balls just waiting for Hotch to get down to business.

It took another minute but then Hotch was sliding his hand up and his head down and the head of Dave's cock was enveloped in hot, wet, suction. "Fuck," Dave groaned, trying not to thrust down Hotch's throat. "Have you done this before?"

Hotch shook his head, which made him cough, but felt amazing on the end of Dave's cock. He drew off and cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't realize - " Then he leaned forward again, trying again, repeating what had worked and trying different things in place of what hadn't. He wasn't practiced, wasn't particularly good at it - Dave had been with several women who had raised cocksucking to an art form and had let one guy in his squad who was a _genius_ at such things practice on him - but he was earnest and attentive and hell, even a bad blowjob was still a blowjob.

Dave could have held back, drawn it out, but he didn't see any reason to. It felt great, but coming was going to feel great, too, and he wasn't sure how much Hotch had left in him. This was the endgame - when he came, they were all going to sleep. He let the tension wind up naturally, thinking idly about Hotch's dark eyes and that piece of hair that flopped over them, and his ass in jeans, which had been a one-time thing, a picnic at Ryan's house, but could happen again.

In a few minutes, he was drawing hoarse breaths and Hotch was watching him intensely, and finally, Dave reached over and tapped Hotch's shoulder and said, "Pull off, kid. I'm gonna come."

Hotch took his time getting out of the way and gave the head of Dave's dick a good suck as he pulled back. Dave grabbed his discarded boxers, curled up, stomach muscles contracting, and his whole body tensed. Then he was coming, gasping harshly and making a mess of his shorts. One thing he'd learned on this job - always have plenty of clean underwear in your go-bag. You could wear the same suit indefinitely but if you shorted yourself on underwear, you were either going to have to do laundry or go shopping.

Dave had a lot of underwear.

Hotch was sitting back on his heels, looking up at Dave with a hooded, fascinated gaze.

"You okay?" Dave asked.

Hotch nodded and started to speak and failed. He cleared his throat and started again. "That," he said, "was extremely effective."

Dave chuckled. "Get some sleep, Hotch," he said, tossing his boxers on the floor and stretching out on the bed. "We're back on the road tomorrow and checkout's at ten. John'll have my ass if we charge another night to the Bureau."

He listens to Hotch stand and collect his clothes, laying out the next day's outfit and packing his bag before climbing into bed. "Hotch," he said when the last light clicked off.

"Yes?" Hotch replied, a little wary, a little hopeful.

Dave smiled in the dark. "Let me know if you have nightmares."

* * *

Three people are already standing with Hotch in the front of the church when Dave and Emily arrive. The priest, a blonde woman who has to be related to Haley, and a man with silver hair. As they approach, Emily can see Jack sitting at his father's feet, leaning slightly against his leg.

Dave pulls Hotch into a hug immediately, clapping his shoulder. Hotch is stiff in his arms and Emily imagines he's just barely holding it together.

"Dave," he says politely. "Thank you for coming." As if Haley's funeral were optional, as if Dave wouldn't be carrying Haley's casket to her final resting place. "Emily." He starts to hold out a hand, but Emily has already reached to hug him. It's awkward and he's rigidly straight in her tentative hug, unable or unwilling to be comforted.

Hotch clears his throat and Emily draws back, trying not to feel rejected. It's not her day to feel anything other than what Hotch needs her to. "Jessica, Grant, this is Emily Prentiss and David Rossi. They're members of my team. Emily, Dave, Jessica Brooks, Grant Brooks. Haley's sister and uncle."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Emily tells them, taking each of their hands in turn. Co-workers, then. Hotch needs them to be co-workers. She can do that. Dave follows suit and Emily steps back and bends her knees until she's nearly on the floor. "Hi, Jack," she says.

"Hi," Jack says. "Did you come to say goodbye to Mommy?"

"Yeah," Emily says, choking up a little. "I did."

"Did Uncle Dave come to say goodbye, too?" Jack asks, looking up to Dave.

"He did," Emily says. "Are you keeping an eye on your dad today?"

"He's doing a good job of it," Hotch says, looking down - and probably right down her dress, she realizes with a flush of embarrassment. Why didn't she go looking for that sweater? She stands up a little too fast and Dave sets a steadying hand on her back.

"Come on," he murmurs, guiding her away.

The casket is open - Foyet had left Haley's face untouched and the high-necked dress hid the large-caliber wounds. She looked waxy and beautiful and not quite like a real person anymore. Next to her, Dave sighs and kisses his fingertips before touching them to Haley's forehead.

They sit in the fourth row back, leaving plenty of room for family in front of them. "You all right?" Dave asks when they've settled.

"This is a ridiculous tradition," Emiy replies. "Who wants to stand up there and be polite while everyone you've ever met comes by to acknowledge that you've just lost one of the most important people in your life?"

Dave ducks his head and after a moment, Emily realizes that he's trying to hide a smile.

"Em," he says after clearing his throat, "I promise, when I kick off, you can let someone else handle the etiquette and you can stay home and read a book."

"Don't even joke about that," Emily snaps, unable to help herself.

"Shh," Dave says, slipping his hand over hers and squeezing. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere." Emily sighs, still agitated, still on edge. "Later," Dave promises. "Everyone goes home eventually and we'll break out the Scotch."

And then he moves his hand to his own leg. Emily glances to the back of the church and sees JJ and Will. She catches JJ's eye and they exchange nods and sad smiles before JJ and Will make their way to the end of the receiving line.

They never do get that later - duty calls and in a crueler voice than usual. Joe Belser gets under Emily's skin like no unsub in recent history and she can feel Dave's eyes on her the whole plane ride home.

* * *

Six days after Benjamin Cyrus beat the snot out of her, Emily opened her front door to find David Rossi on her doorstep. He had his hands on his hips, his jacket pushed back.

"Hey," Emily greeted him warily. She was supposed to be out on medical leave - Hotch told her he didn't want to see her in the office until the next Monday. JJ hadn't sent her any messages about new cases, and she wasn't quite sure what she would have done to have pissed off Rossi enough to deserve the scowl on his face.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," she said, moving aside. "Make yourself at home."

He stepped inside and glanced around her front hall, what there was of it, noting the kitchen and living room. "How are you feeling?" he asked, eyes flickering over her face and watching her move.

"I'm okay," Emily said cautiously. She'd had a laundry list of broken ribs and contusions, cuts and bruises carefully catalogued by the EMTs. There wasn't actually a lot to be done for any of it and two days of sleep and a few more of minimal movement and a combination of heat and ice packs had helped quite a lot.

"I gave it a week," Rossi said. "I figured you needed that long, at least."

"For what?" Emily asked, somewhat mystified.

"I made the right call," Rossi said. "We couldn't go in there while he was beating you. It would have been a bloodbath."

"Dave," Emily said, touched by his agitation. "I know that. I told you that, remember?"

"I know," Dave said. He paused for a moment, hands on hips, tongue pressed up against his top lip. Then he dropped his hands and looked straight at her, his eyes dark with regret. "I'm so sorry I didn't make them go in, Emily. I'm so sorry I didn't bring the whole damn state of Colorado down on them. Trust me, I wanted nothing better than to go beat the shit out of Cyrus myself."

"Rossi." Emily stopped and cleared her throat, not really understanding, not sure what to say. It wasn't like they weren't friends. It wasn't like she didn't know they had a great rhythm together, a give and take that felt like the natural flow of the most intimate relationship. It wasn't like she didn't know he had a big stupid soft spot for her, one he pretended he didn't and one he didn't have for anyone else on the team, save maybe Hotch. "I'm okay."

"I'm not sure I am," he replied. He reached out, his hand inches from her face, and then he touched her, drew close, and kissed her, before she realized what was going on.

"Oh," she said. "Oh."

"Please don't make me apologize for that," Dave growled and kissed her again.

She took him by the hand and led him upstairs. There were no apologies.

* * *

Dave calls on Saturday night and announces that he and Emily are bringing pastries. Jack's asleep in his own bed and Hotch has had enough so-called comfort food to last him a year, but he winds up eating a cannoli anyway, because Dave's a steamroller and Hotch has always had a weakness for the ones with the chocolate chips.

"How did it go in Nashville?" he asks when he's licked sweetened ricotta off his fingers.

"Oh, he was a real charmer," Emily answers. "Held women hostage in their own homes and made them play along with his sick - and hopelessly cliched - romantic fantasies."

Dave rests his hand on Emily's knee and Aaron recognizes the sentiment. She's coming down off a case she took personally. Ordinarily, he and Dave would take her between them, make her forget, ease her down, cushion the fall. Panic flashes in Aaron's chest. He's not sure he can do that tonight, not sure he can take on another person's well-being. Taking care of himself and Jack is hard enough. He has a hard choice to make, for himself, and for Jack, and he knows it's going to have ripples.

"We've got fingerprint and DNA evidence for four murders," Dave says. "And a witness who's going to make it. What did Strauss want with you?"  
Hotch glances over and notices Emily doing the same and then flipping her gaze right back to Hotch. He'd wondered if Dave had something to do with Strauss's offer but if he knows, he's playing clueless and Emily is clearly mystified.

"She offered me retirement," he says. "With full benefits."

Emily's mouth drops open but Dave just nods. "You taking it?" he asks.

"I don't know," Aaron admits. "Jessica offered to stay with Jack when we have to go away. If she's serious...." He shrugs.

"Is she?" Emily asks.

Hotch knows she is, but he wants to cling to the uncertainty. "I think so," he temporizes. "But everything has changed. I can't just go on like I did before, putting everything I have into the job. Jack needs me now, and in ways he never did before."  
Emily reaches over and takes his hand, letting them rest together on his leg. "You'll make the right decision," she says and Hotch bites back the urge to ask just what that right decision is.

Dave stretches his arm along the back of the sofa, his shoulder behind Emily's head and his hand coming to rest on Hotch's shoulder. "Whatever you decide," he says, his thumb stroking across the back of Hotch's neck, "we're backing you up."

The air in the room shifts, charging with a sexual tension that hasn't been awkward since the beginning. Hotch resists it, not just because Jack's in the house, although that's as good an excuse as any.

Emily spreads her fingers over his leg, squeezing reassuringly. She leans in and kisses him, and Aaron kisses her back automatically, but he pulls away before it goes too deep.

Kissing her makes him want to cry again, the deep ache of Haley's loss ripping through his heart. Dave misunderstands, thinks he wants to make things equal, and curls a warm hand around the back of Aaron's neck, kissing him over Emily's head. For some reason, kissing Dave doesn't break his heart the way kissing Emily does, and Aaron closes his eyes and pushes forward. It's easier, if not better, and Hotch feels another riposte of grief as Emily slips across his lap to the cushion beside him, bracketing his other side, and kisses under his chin, pressing butterfly kisses down his neck.

He feels cherished, beloved between them, and he doesn't deserve it, doesn't want to deserve it. He submits because he knows those feelings of guilt are destructive, but he can't reciprocate, can't get out of his own head. He's giving himself over to Dave, to let him and Emily take control.

"What do you need, Aaron?" Emily murmurs in his ear and it nearly breaks him. She always calls him Hotch, never Aaron, and hearing his given name fall from her lips makes him think of Haley and how different Emily is from her, and in some ways so much the same. He doesn't know what he wants and Dave backs off, pressing his mouth against Aaron's forehead and waiting for a reply. Aaron opens his mouth to answer and can't find the words. What he needs and what he knows he should do aren't compatible and his ability to make even this simple decision is compromised.

Jack's cry saves him from having to choose.

He's back together, in control, and pushing Dave back and shouldering away from Emily. "Jack," he says by way of explanation as he rushes to his son's bedroom and crouches by the big boy bed. "Hey, hey," he soothes. "Jack. Come on, buddy."

"I woke up," Jack sniffles. "And Mommy wasn't there."

"I know," Aaron said, sitting on the bed at Jack's feet. "Mommy's not here anymore, remember? It's you and me, now. Mommy's watching over us from heaven."

Jack sniffs. "I wanna sleep with you," he says.

"Okay," Hotch agrees. He'd rather have Jack there, rather lay awake and watch his son sleep than anything else. As willing as he'd been to let Dave take charge, let Emily wrap herself around him, he hadn't even been hard when he'd walked away. _Run away_ , his brain supplies. "Hey, you know who is here?" Jack shook his head. "Uncle Dave and, uh, Aunt Emily. You want to say goodnight to them?"

Jack wraps his arms around Hotch's neck. "Okay," he says but he doesn't sound enthused. Hotch doesn't blame him. It's late and he's tired and he misses Haley. He's not sure if he's speaking for Jack or for himself.

"C'mon," Hotch says, boosting him up. Dave and Emily are sitting on the couch talking quietly when he comes out. "Hey," he calls with false cheer.  "Look who's here!"

"Hey, Jack!" Dave greets him. Emily smiles nervously. She's good with kids but for some reason she's often quiet around Jack.

"I'm going to sleep in Daddy's bed," Jack announces.

"We're just here to say goodnight," Aaron says firmly. He catches the flash in Emily's eyes before she catches herself, but only just. If he wasn't looking for her to be hurt, he might have missed it entirely. Dave doesn't react.

"Well, you two have a good night," Emily says, standing and reaching for her jacket.

"Jack, there's some cookies in the kitchen," Dave tells him. "Get your dad to give you one tomorrow, okay?"

Hotch aims his narrowest glare at Dave, but Dave just grins at him and reaches out to squeeze Emily's shoulder. "We'll talk tomorrow," he says.

Hotch nods. "Thanks for the cannoli," he says, and follows them to the door. He turns the lock behind them, bolting the door and activating the alarm. "C'mon, champ," he says, walking Jack back to his room. "It's just you and me, now."

* * *

Aaron had seen local law enforcement consistently underestimate JJ, treat her like a Barbie doll with fluff for brains. He'd witnessed everyone from file clerks to David Rossi widen their eyes at Garcia's quirky style and then drop their jaws at her amazing talent. He'd watched every poor slob within her radius fumble to ask Elle on a date and then be floored when she kicked someone's ass. But before Viper, he never thought he'd see someone outright sexually harass Emily Prentiss and live to tell the tale.

She handled herself well, naturally, and there was really no justification for taking him to the ground with a knee in his kidneys, but Aaron would have liked to see it anyway. Sending her into the club after him, though - after his conversations with Garcia and Melissa Foster earlier, he hated to be that guy who sent a beautiful agent into a situation where she had to use her sexuality as a tool. JJ did it sometimes, to make sure people continued to underestimate her, and Garcia had made it a signature of her persona but those were their choices. He'd never asked that of them and he never would.

"I'm going to make sure Prentiss is okay with this," he told Dave.

Dave raised an eyebrow at him. "It's Prentiss," he said. "She'll get the job done."

Which was like saying the sky was blue, but didn't sway Hotch against talking to her.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she told him, dismissing his concern out of hand. "Sadly, I've actually dated people worse than Viper."

Aaron tilted his head, trying to process the idea of Emily dating. Specifically dating people worse than Viper. He would have imagined - had he bothered to imagine her personal life - that she'd have better taste, or at least better judgment. That she'd date guys with manners and decorum, guys with her own level of social acumen and poise. Maybe even someone like him.

"Wow," he said, because as it turned out, even Aaron Hotchner is not unflappable, given the right set of circumstances.

She gave him a rueful smile and pulled her necklace away from the column of her neck and for a moment, Aaron thought that she actually was extremely pretty. Not that he thought of his team - except occasionally Dave when he was feeling nostalgic or lonely or for no good reason at all - in any way other than professional. But....

Emily was practically Haley's film negative. Dark where Haley was light, sardonic where Haley was sweet, ruthlessly practical where Haley was a romantic. And yet, Aaron could almost picture an alternate universe where he'd never met Haley, where he would be attracted to Emily. Taken her to dinner. Taken her to a charity ball. Taken her to bed. Maybe they even would have made it work.

It was an odd train of thought, quickly disrupted by Emily's inquiry about Jordan Todd. Hotch shunted it away and concentrated on the personnel problem at hand. But it would come up again.

* * *

"First Morgan, now you," Hotch says as Dave drops a closed casefile on his desk. "Is there a conspiracy I don't know about?"

"A conspiracy to make you think not every piece of paper that goes through this unit is your responsibility?" Dave asks. Hotch lifts an eyebrow, silently reminding Dave of his own days as Unit Chief and the asschewing he got whenever someone fucked up the paperwork. The man who'd had Erin Strauss's job was now the Director of the Bureau. Dave didn't hold it against him. Much. "There is such a thing as delegation," he points out but Hotch has won this round.

"Thank you," Aaron says, moving the file to a stack that Dave figures, by process of elimination, is his "done" pile.

"You want to get out of here and grab something to eat?" Dave asks. "Emily's having dinner with her mother so it's just us."

Aaron shook his head. "I'm trying to get home to have dinner with Jack every night," he says. "It would be a nice family tradition if we can keep it up."

"So?" Dave shrugs. "Pick him up. We'll all go out. We'll go to one of those places with the skeeball and the ball pit. I used to throw some fifties back in the day. Bring Jessica, too. My treat."

"Apparently you've never had the food at one of those places," Hotch says dryly. He signs off on something and puts the pen on the desk. "I'd rather not."

"We'll go somewhere else," Dave offers. He's pushing the boundaries of politeness and one of them is going to have to break sooner or later.

"Dave." Hotch's voice is firm. "I told you, things have changed. I need to do what's best for Jack."

"And that excludes having dinner with an old friend?"

Hotch sets his jaw so hard, Dave thinks maybe he could hear the click. "I'd rather not have this discussion here."

"Which is why I've been trying to talk to you outside work, but you won't have it." Dave sits down in the chair he's always thought of as his.

Aaron tightens his mouth and when he speaks again, his voice is subdued. "Dave, think about it," he says. "I live in a two-bedroom apartment with a four-year-old who hasn't quite realized his mother - " He cuts himself off and glances toward the open door. "I don't have time of my own anymore. I don't have lonely weekends. And my sister-in-law is the only reason I can still do this job. I can't risk - " He stops again, turning his gaze down to his desk.

Dave lets him breathe it out. Aaron's overwhelmed, overburdened, and right now, trying to figure out how to keep up his corner of their triangle is too much for him. "Hey," he says finally. "We're not going anywhere. Once things get more settled, we'll work something out about...." He lifts both eyebrows at Hotch to silently acknowledge that sex with three people in one bed is rarely quiet or discreet.

Hotch just shakes his head. "I don't think that's an option anymore," he says.

Dave fills his chest with air and huffs it out. He knows what Hotch is doing and he doesn't like it. He respects the sentiment behind it - Hotch wants to devote himself to Jack and plans to wall himself off from all possible distractions - but he knows that kids grow up and they need their parents to be people, too. He also knows that now isn't the time for Hotch to be making difficult decisions. He's not about to say so, though.

They hear footsteps on the stairs, heels, and then JJ sticks her head in the doorway. "We have a case," she tells them, brandishing a file, and heads for the conference room, all business. Dave and Aaron exchange regretful looks - a case means bodies, another unsub, and JJ's brusqueness means time is a factor. There will be more bodies. This conversation is going to have to be shelved.

"All I'm saying," Dave tells Aaron as he stands up, "is that you should leave your options open. Just in case."

* * *

"Dave," Hotch said two days after they apprehended Norman Hill and found his dead family. They were sitting in Hotch's office after hours drinking bourbon - Hotch's office, Hotch's drink.

"Hm?" Dave asked. Hotch's office was a pocket of stillness in the normal restlessness of the BAU and Dave had let his mind wander - to Emily, to the weekend, to the odd suspicion that he just might be growing content in his old age.

"Are you busy tonight?" Hotch asked. It wasn't a casual question and Dave immediately caught the pained expression on Hotch's face. "I - " The fine muscles in Hotch's jaw trembled. "I don't want to have to talk about it."

"Aaron," Dave murmured. He hadn't thought that Hotch would want this again. He certainly hadn't seemed interested when Dave returned to the unit. He hated to deny Aaron this - anything, but especially this - but his thoughts were full of Emily and how there was no way to pretend she wasn't part of this equation. "Aaron," he said again. "I'm with someone."

If Hotch wanted to take a shot, to hurt Dave, he could have said, _When has that ever stopped you?_ It would have been true. But in matters of his personal life, Aaron more than played fair. He played scrupulous.

"I understand," he said with a short nod, and looked into his glass. Then, quietly, he asked, "Does she know about your...history?"

Dave laughed a little and had to smile to himself. "She knows I've slept with men," he confessed. "First woman I ever told." And God, did that move pay off in spades, he thought. "But," he added. "I didn't tell her who I slept with."

"If it comes down to it," Hotch said in the same odd voice. "You have my permission." And then, "Is it who I think it is?"

It wasn't that Dave had really thought he was fooling Hotch when he took up with Emily. But he was still startled that Hotch had voiced it. Then again, it wasn't like the conversation was explicitly professional to start.

"Probably," he said. "But until I know who you think it is, I can neither confirm nor deny."

"You have a type, Dave," is all Hotch said in reply.

* * *

Six cases after Hotch comes back to the BAU, six cases they've worked together after the funeral, and Hotch hasn't come to them once. Hasn't offered or accepted a personal touch or a dinner invitation, not even to a restaurant. Dave has tried. Dave's even tried to comfort Hotch on his own, knowing how reluctant he is to leave Jack. But Hotch keeps pulling away, keeps shutting them out.

"I'm going to go see Hotch," she says one night after dinner.

Dave sighs. "I don't know if that's a good idea," he says. "He wants some time. And some distance. If you push too hard, he's going to push back."

"Maybe he needs to push back," Emily argues. "Maybe he needs to confront this head-on. It's not like him to be so passive-aggressive."

"I'm just saying," Dave says wearily, "that forcing the issue is not going to get you the results you want. Just back off, Em. Leave him alone for a bit."

"And what you've been doing has worked just _great_ ," Emily says. "He's out there building up big stone castle walls of avoidance and denial. Dave, if we let him slip too far away, we may never get him back."

"As much as neither of us want to hear it, he may not want to come back," Dave replies calmly and anger flares in her chest, her cheeks, her eyes.

"Well, I won't accept that," Emily tells him, keeping her temper under careful control. She knows Dave isn't as impassive as his demeanor suggested and that pisses her off even more. "I'm going to go let him know that we care about him and we're worried about him."

"Fine," Dave says. "But you're not getting any sympathy from me when he tells you something you don't want to hear."

Emily spends plenty of time being pissed off at Dave, but it's over transient cares, little things, and proper bedcovers allocation. She doesn't like this feeling - that he thinks she's wrong, that he's not supporting her, that she's not on solid ground.

She's in her car before she remembers to call Hotch and let him know she's on her way. He tells her that Jack's going to be asleep and to knock quietly.

Jack's not asleep when she gets there, is fussing because he doesn't want to go to bed wtihout his dad. He's been raised to behave in front of company, though, so Emily's presence actually helps, even if she dislikes being considered "company."

"Hey," Hotch finally says, standing in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips. That position irritates Emily - it irritates her when Rossi does it too. "What did you need to talk about?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing," Emily says, getting up from the couch and moving around to where Hotch stood.

"You see me every day at work," Hotch reminds her, eyebrows drawing closer together.

Emily takes a steadying breath, trying not to let Hotch notice her frustration. "I used to see you out of work, too" she says evenly. "I think we need to do that again. It's not good for you to just wall yourself off from your friends and from me and Dave. Let us in, Hotch." She closed the distance between them and tilted her head up to kiss him. "We miss you," she whispers, and leans in.

Hotch leans away.

Emily swallows her hurt and steps back. "I'm not trying to push," she starts. "Things have changed, I know that. But that doesn't mean we're not here for you."

"I am completely responsible for Jack, now," Hotch says, gesturing toward the closed door in the back of the apartment. "The time is past when I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, and that includes having casual sex at the drop of a hat."

"I can't even begin to understand how much pressure you're under right now," Emily starts, trying to ignore the word _casual_ that he'd dropped in there so...casually. Like everything they'd done was just for fun.

"No," Hotch says in that tone of voice that shuts down dissent. "You can't."

Emily actually physically takes a step back. It's clear what he means - she can't understand because she doesn't have a child. Because she's never taken on that kind of commitment and responsibility. _Because no one ever loved her that much_ , her brain fills in traitorously, reminding her that what she has with Hotch, and maybe even with Rossi is _casual_ in his eyes.

It's dirty pool, and Hotch knows exactly how to hurt her, and she knows this. It's easier to regroup when she tells herself he's just trying to push her away, that he's hurting and scared in his own way, and wasn't ready to be pushed. It still hurts that he did it at all.

"I was going to say," she says calmly, "that if you let the weight of all that responsibility crush you, you'll be no good to Jack at all. He'll learn nothing from you but how to be sad. That's what I learned from my father."

She picks up her bag from the sofa and types in the code for the alarm system so she can let herself out without waking up Jack, or Hotch's entire building. Her hand's on the door and she should just leave, but she can't help saying one more thing. "It wasn't casual for me," she tells him, not looking at him, not giving him the satisfaction or the guilt of seeing the tears in her eyes. "And it wasn't casual for Dave, either."

She gets out of there, fast, pulling the door shut behind her. The tears don't fall until she's behind the wheel of the car, and then only the ones in her eyes. She pushes Hotch's words back and away, categorizing them into the things said by damaged, angry people, and they don't quite fit in that box, they refuse to be tucked away so summarily, but it's the best option she has for now. She blots the tears away with the heel of her hand and fumbles for her compact in her purse. A little powder around her eyes and a fresh coat of mascara, and she's 90% sure Dave won't be able to tell for sure if she'd been crying.

She doesn't even consider going back to her place in the city.

* * *

In bed with Dave, coming down from a shuddering orgasm, Emily felt the mattress shift as Dave rolled onto his side and said, "I have to tell you something."

Confessions came easier this way, in the dark, with the echoes of their lovemaking lingering in the air and on their skin. A sweet curl of anticipation coiled in Emily's stomach, wondering what new secret Dave was about to share with her.

"Tell me," she urged, reaching out to trace the line of his neck. His skin was hot under her fingertips.

"It's not all my story to tell," he confessed, and she nodded, silently promising discretion. "Back, long ago, when Hotch first joined the BAU," Dave said, reaching for her, pressing his palm against her hip, "he was young and new, and I wanted to make it easier for him, to give him an outlet. Sometimes you can't explain the things we see." His hand tightened on her hip. "Sometimes you need to know someone else saw it without having to say the words. I wanted to be that person for him. And I was, for over a year. And then I left."

Emily studied Dave's face in the dark. He looked troubled, uncomfortable confessing Hotch's secrets along with his own. She might have guessed that Hotch, so staid and buttoned-up and earnest was holding so much inside, but not with Dave. Never with Dave. The idea of them together was...appealing, to say the least.

Everyone had a little bit of a crush on Hotch at one time or another. It was generally a pretty platonic crush, because Hotch was so in love with Haley, and besides that, he could be, on occasion, terrifying, and if someone made it past all that, he was also a workaholic perfectionist who would probably profile you in bed.

But everyone was also a little in love with him because he did the things the rest of them couldn't or didn't want to, and he stood up for them in ways they knew about and ways they didn't, and they all knew how much he put into the job and how well he did it.

Emily may have had a few fantasies about how all that focus and intensity might feel directed on her, but she was a realist and wasn't about put any hope into the idea. But now, knowing that Dave had touched him, jerked him off, maybe even fucked him - and God that was hot, that image - Emily had to think of him as a real person again, someone with physical needs and quirks and she began to wonder.

She propped herself up on her elbow and circled her fingers down to the base of Dave's throat, to the notch of his collarbone. "Why now?" she asked.

"He asked me tonight," Dave said carefully. "He needed me to be that person. And I told him I was with someone."

That hit Emily hard, hit her in the gut. She knew Dave loved her, knew Dave was committed to her. But to hear that Dave had turned down someone else - someone he loved, at least as much as he loved her, though maybe in a different way - was...amazing. She felt embraced, adored...and selfish.

"I think he knows, Em," he said. "That it's you I'm with. I don't think he'll say anything, but I wanted you to know."

"Is he okay?" Emily asked.

Dave sighed, eyes falling closed. "I don't know," he admitted. "He keeps shutting things away. He won't talk to me about Kate Joyner or his hearing or anything that's happened since then. And I hate that he doesn't have Haley and Jack. He needs...I don't know. An outlet of some sort and I can't give it to him."

"It's true," she said. "It helps when you don't have to explain it." She leaned up and kissed his mouth and said, "There's an easy way to solve this problem, you know."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, pulling her closer, tight against his body. She hooked a leg over his hip and pressed herself against his leg. "God, how are you wet again?" he wondered, pressing his mouth against her ear and cheek.

"He's your friend," Emily said quietly but firmly in his ear. "You need to go to him."

"Emily." Dave pulled back and cupped her cheek in his hand.

"I mean it," she said. "Life's too short. I know...I should be jealous. Maybe I should think of him as competition. But it's Hotch and he's alone right now and - " She shrugged as much as she could, sprawled sideways on the bed and curled around Dave. The truth is, she knew how tightly his ex-wives had tried to hold on to him, and everything she'd learned about him since told her that squeezing him would only make him slip away. " - he needs you," she finished lamely. "It's not true that onlies don't know how to share."

Dave frowned at her, stroking his thumb along her cheek. "What if I only want to be with you?" he asked.

Emily blinked at him. It wasn't quite a lie, even if it hadn't been in the form of a question. But she knew him, and she knew his history, and she wasn't sure either of them really believed it. "Then only be with me," she said. "But if you want to be with Hotch, too, it's okay. I'm okay." She smiled. "It would be nice if you told me. So I know where you are." She licked her lower lip. "And so I can think about what you're doing."

"So that's why you're so wet," Dave said, sliding his hand around her leg, urging her up higher so he could stroke her from behind. " _You_ are having impure thought about your boss."

She leaned forward, pressing her mouth against his. "I'm having impure thoughts," she admitted, "about my lover sucking off my boss."

Dave groaned into her mouth and slipped two fingers inside her, not too deep, but just far enough to push up against her g-spot. "C'mere," he urged. "Come sit on my face."

"Oh, Dave," she purred, pushing herself up and walking up his body on her knees. "You say the prettiest things to me."

He might have said something else, but she braced herself on the headboard and lowered herself down, brushing her pussy over his mouth and beard.

"Emily," he murmured, licking her clit and sliding his other hand up the back of her leg. Dave ran his tongue back to where his fingers were angled inside of her and up again to her clit. Usually when he went down on her, he was deliberate, tracing careful patterns, playing with pressure and methodically pressing every button she had until she was screaming his name as she came.

In this position, though, she had all the control and he lapped at her like a thirsty man at an oasis. Dave wasn't much for giving up control, but when he did, he liked her to take advantage of it.

She lifted up, away from his mouth. "Will you tell me about it?" she asked.

"What?" He lifted his head, chasing after her, but she braced herself above him and looked down.

"You and Hotch." She tensed deliberately, squeezing around his fingers. "It's hot. Will you tell me about it?"

He turned his head and kissed the inside of her thigh, halfway up from her knee, and looked up at her. "This is really making you horny," he said. He scissored his fingers inside her and she gasped. She could feel her face heating.

"Can you blame me?" she asked.

"You like thinking about me sucking his cock?" Dave asked, easing her back down to his mouth. He flicked his tongue across her clit.

"You have a really talented mouth," Emily told him. "Don't go getting a big head about that."

Dave chuckled, sending tiny vibrations through her. "Is that what you want us to do?" he asked. "If I go to him, I should offer to suck his cock?"

"I don't know," Emily said, trying to imagine Hotch's face when Dave presented it that way. "Is that what you want to do? Is that what he likes?"

"What do you want me to say if he asks what you like in bed?" Dave asks, tilting his head up to look at her and brushing his beard right across her.

Emily pulled away, the contact too harsh, and a shiver ran up her spine. The idea of Hotch wondering what she liked in bed was equal parts exciting and absurd, but she got Dave's gentle rebuke. He wasn't going to kiss and tell without explicit permission. "You should tell him I like being eaten out, sitting on your dick, and pegging you," she said, shifting around on her knees because it was an awkward position and she was getting overly sensitive. "Also, red wine and long walks on the beach."

Dave licked his lips. "He was the first guy I let fuck me," he said finally. "Usually I fucked him, but there was one night I needed it and damn if he didn't give it to me."

"Dave," Emily gasped, because she had just about given up on satisfying her curiosity.

"Him and you, Em," Dave said. "That's it. I slept with a few guys after I retired - they'd hit on me on the book tours sometimes - but either I fucked them or let them suck me off."

Emily whimpered and pressed down over Dave's mouth. He licked her wild and messy, catching her clit between his lips and sucking, and fucking her with his fingers until she shuddered and came, curled over him.

When it was over and she was stretched out on the mattress next to him, he pressed his thumb into the clasp of her hand and folded his fingers over hers. "I can make it a condition," he said, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "That I give you full disclosure."

"No conditions," Emily said drowsily. "But full disclosure? I can make _that_ worth your while."

* * *

Aaron feels awful the moment Emily leaves his apartment. He tells himself it's necessary, that it's the only way he can go forward with the new life he's committed himself to living, one more focused and balanced than what he had before. One where Jack's the most important thing.

But a week at work convinces him otherwise. Emily treats him normally, or what was normal before - she's professional, competent, sociable, even cheerful. But when he's watching, and he's always watching, he sees shadows pass over her face. The corners of her mouth turn down when she's concentrating and he catches her taking deep breaths like she can't get enough air in her chest.

Dave isn't any happier, but he's harder to watch. Mostly because he's usually watching Aaron. Aaron wonders how much of the conversation Emily relayed. He knows she wouldn't tell him the worst parts, wouldn't want him to know how much Aaron had hurt her.

Aaron's chest aches all the time. He keeps telling himself it's for the best, but as frustrating as it would be to try to be with Dave and Emily, it can't be as hard as pushing them away when all he wants to is to cling to them both.

His guilt finally overwhelms him in the middle of a case. He's interviewing a prostitute who explains she's aborting the unsub's baby, not because he raped her and cut her face, but because she's already aborted one pregnancy and figures she's "not exactly mother material."

Aaron has to excuse himself and go to the restroom where he grips the sink and wonders what kind of person he's become without Haley to temper his dark moods. It's this kind of moment where Dave tends to barge in and dispense wisdom, but he's at a crime scene with Emily and Morgan, so Hotch pulls himself together and finishes the interview.

When the case is over, he finds a blank notecard and handwrites his apology.

 _Dear Emily,_

 _I owe you the kind of apology that should come with flowers and dinner and heartfelt promises never to hurt you again. I can't give you that. I said horrible things, things meant to hurt, and I deeply regret ever having said them. At the time, I wanted to give you a sense of how much pain I was in, make you understand my desire to hide from the world. It was a cruel thing to do._

 _I said what we did was casual. If that were true, I wouldn't have to walk away because it wouldn't hurt so much. Being with you and Dave reminds of me of falling in love with Haley all over again. You two will be fine. I've never seen him love anyone the way he loves you. He told me to keep my options open but it doesn't seem fair to ask you to wait for something that may not happen for months or years, or at all._

 _I can't be who you and Dave want me to be right now. I am grateful for the concern and affection you have both expressed, but right now I can only be Jack's father. Haley is the last thing I'm letting this job take from him - she was too big a price to pay and I didn't realize until it was too late. I promised her I'd spend the rest of my life making up what we lost, and the only way to keep that promise is to be the best father I can possibly be to Jack. As tempting as it may be to let you and Dave be my comfort, I'm afraid that if I lose my footing, I may never find it again._

 _Speaking of Jack, he asked about you the other day. He'd like to see you. I know I've been unwelcoming. Please give me a chance to correct that. I've tied our sexual relationship and our friendship together in my mind and that's been a mistake. Jack nad I need our friends. Please don't be a stranger._

He hesitates over the closing and finally chooses, _With love, Aaron_. He walks next door to Dave's office the next day and holds it out.

"Will you give this to Emily for me?" he asks. "At home."

Dave lifts an eyebrow, which makes Aaron want to talk more, but he resolutely keeps his mouth shut and waits for Dave to take the envelope. "Sure." Dave tucks it into an inside pocket of his jacket. "You okay?"

Aaron takes a deep breath. "Sometimes," he says, internally railing against every word, "it's harder to ask for help that to do it on my own. I'm okay," he adds quickly at the sudden concern on Dave's face. "But I've been a jackass. To you and to Emily."

"I think you're owed the right to be a jackass once or twice," Dave says carefully. "You put up with me, after all."

"Emily's done nothing to deserve it," Aaron says. "And sometimes I forget that we're friends, even when we're not - " He inclines his head, because they're at work and somehow he can't say that out loud. "You should come over sometime this week," he adds. "To see Jack."

"Yeah," Dave says. "That'd be nice." He glances at his jacket where the envelope is nestled. "And this?"

Aaron gives him a wry smile. "Please make sure she gets it," he says. "She puts up with both of us."

* * *

"Let's get a drink at your place," Dave had said to Hotch on a Friday afternoon.

By the time Hotch let them into his apartment, an embarrassing clutter of boxes of not-yet-unpacked books and personal items, and poured bourbon into two glasses, he had a pretty good idea of what Dave was doing there. Neither of them admitted it though, not right away. Not until he hit the bottom of the second glass did Dave say, "Still don't want to talk about it?"

Aaron stared at the remainder of his glass and then back at Dave. "What about Prentiss?" he asked. He never got confirmation, but he'd watched them together, watched how they interacted and it's a well-educated guess.

Dave grinned a little, pleased, maybe, that Aaron's figured it out. "I have a dispensation," he said. "For you."

"For me?" Hotch repeated. He never imagined Emily Prentiss as the type to give "dispensations."

"I can fuck you," Dave said. "Everyone else I have to run past her first."

"Wow," Aaron said, half to himself. "That was fast."

"What do you mean?" Dave asked, frowning a little.

"I just - " Hotch shrugged. "I'm not arguing." He put his glass on the steamer trunk that was sitting in front of his couch and stood up. He'd already thrown his jacket over the back of the couch, next to Dave's, but he was still wearing the rest of his work clothes and he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs before he lost his nerve.

"Good." Dave stood up too, and kissed him, one hand cradling the back of Hotch's head. Kissing had gotten easier after that first time and eleven years wasn't as long as Hotch remembered, or maybe Dave practiced on other people since then.

That was an odd thought, Dave kissing other men. Aaron knew Dave had experience with men before that first night but it hadn't occurred to him that he would have pursued men after. He wouldn't have needed it, according to their initial reasoning, not walking violent crime scenes anymore, and who would he have fucked if he had? There were very few people who saw what they saw.

Dave eased off, his hand dropping to Aaron's shoulder. "What did you mean 'that was fast'?" he asked again.

Aaron's not even sure what he meant, but he said, "Emily. I didn't think she would - you actually told her you were going to come have sex with me?"

"It was her idea," Dave said, and that was not what Aaron was expecting at all. "I told her about it and she said I should go to you." He moved his hand from Aaron's shoulder to his own hip and rubbed his beard with his other hand. "You think she's gonna change her mind?"

Aaron shook his head. "I don't know her like you do," he said honestly.

Dave lifted an eyebrow and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "You want to call her and get permission?" he asked, offering the phone to Aaron. "She'll probably want you to put us on speaker."

Aaron glanced at the phone and then up at Dave's face. "You want me to call her," he said. "Because _you_ want to call her."

"You're the one who's worried about her reaction to this," Dave pointed out.

"You're never living this down," Aaron assured him. "Not with all the shit you gave me about calling Haley. For years."

They stood there for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Aaron glanced down. "You have an erection," he commented. "Are you thinking about me or her?"

Dave blinked soberly at him. "Both," he said. "I think Emily's pretty sure about this. She's worried about you, she wants you to be okay, she knows you're safe with me and most importantly, she understands too, she knows what it's like to need to be with someone who understands the things we see."

His words shook Aaron a little. Clearly Dave and Emily were far closer than he'd realized. Dave had never been like this with the women he'd slept with. He spoke about Emily like he'd speak about Aaron himself. "She'd really be okay with you sleeping with someone else? A man that you work with? That she works with?" It seemed like an impossible tangle, the way they were all together and yet not. Aaron tried to imagine working with Emily, knowing they were both sleeping with the same man, and balked.

"Okay with it?" Dave asked. "Jesus, Aaron, she's so turned on by it I can barely keep up with her. I'll either have to quit talking about it or get some backup."

Aaron thought about it and nodded. The easy answer was, of course, for Dave to stop talking about it. In law they called it a Chinese wall - a barrier of paper excluding lawyers with conflicts from contact with a case their firm had taken. Of course, his other statement would be just as effective, Aaron thought wryly. If Emily was really interested, really wanted to watch, maybe they should just invite her to join in and if Dave needed help... "That would fix everything," he murmured to himself.

"What?" Dave asked. "Calling for backup to have sex with - " He cut himself off. "You wanna be my backup?" he asked.

Aaron should be able to read his face better. He couldn't quite tell if Dave was intrigued or angry or just disbelieving. Also, he hadn't quite meant to say that out loud. He licked his lips.

"I guess the question is," he said, conflicted about what he wanted the answer to be, "is if the thought of me and Emily together turns _you_ on."

The Dave he'd known a decade ago wouldn't be. The Dave who'd fucked him had been possessive, traditional about his female lovers. He wouldn't have liked the idea of another man fucking them at all. In fact, Hotch knew for a fact that was a factor in at least one divorce. But this Dave was different and if this was going to sort out for the best, there was really only one answer to that question.

Dave licked his upper lip and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that's - fuck." He shook his head. "Hell, yeah." He looked at Aaron. "Does thinking about me being with her make _you_ hot?" he asked "Does thinking about all three of us together make you hot?"

Aaron thought of Emily with her long, long legs and her pretty, perfect-sized breasts and imagined Dave's hands on her, wondered if Dave touched Emily the way he had touched Aaron, firm fingertips and gentle palms, hard kisses and bruising thrusts. He imagined Dave was gentler with Emily, that she didn't have bruises in the shower the next morning, and then he imagined that maybe she did.

"You've got a hard-on, too," Dave observed.

Aaron lifted his eyebrows and glanced down at the front of his pants. "Answers that question, doesn't it?" he said.

Dave looked down at the phone he was still holding loosely in his hand. "What happens now?" he asked.

Aaron shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "Somehow, this is never a question I've had to ask myself before."

Dave nodded, biting his lip and smothering a grin. Dave always had appreciated Aaron's humor. "I think," he said, weighing the phone in his palm. "I think, maybe, I should go talk to Emily. In person."

Aaron nodded, regretting the loss of comfort, but feeling strangely hopeful and at peace. "I think that's a good plan," he said.

"I'm, uh, sorry that I'm leaving," Dave said, the reluctance obvious in his voice.

"I understand," Aaron said. "Me, too." They exchanged rueful smiles. It wasn't hard to guess what Dave was thinking. Aaron was thinking the same. They were both aroused, wanted each other, but they wanted Emily, too, and she wasn't there.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Dave said. He reached out and squeezed Aaron's shoulder, lingered a little. He leaned in and kissed Aaron again, and it was even more familiar, hot, with the scratch of Dave's beard against Aaron's face. He smiled and squeezed the back of Aaron's neck, and let himself out.

Aaron locked the door after him and looked around. And he wondered, _What on earth did I just get myself into?_

* * *

Aaron comes into the living room, rubbing the back of his head. "Jack's asleep," he says, and he looks as happy as Dave's seen him all night. He hadn't been kidding about the food at the kids pizza place, but he'd put up a good front of watching Jack in the ball pit and cheering Dave's unfortunately rusty skeeball skills. Now, though, the unhappy set of his shoulders has eased and he looks more at peace.

"Good," Dave says. "C'mere."

Aaron stiffens up again when Dave slings an arm around his shoulders, hauling him in, up, against Dave's body, back to front, and sliding his arm across Aaron's collarbone. "Hey," Dave soothes, wrapping his other arm around Aaron in a hug. "Hey, it's okay. Relax."

Aaron shakes his head. "I just don't - I don't want Jack to catch us," he says.

"Jack's asleep," Dave reminds him.

"Jack has nightmares," Aaron says. Dave bets Jack's not the only one.

"We'll hear him," Dave says. "Just let me hold you for a minute."

Aaron quiets but doesn't relax. "I don't know that I'm up for this tonight," he says haltingly.

"Up for what?" Dave asks, sliding his hand up to squeeze the tight muscles in Aaron's shoulder. He uses that grip to turn Aaron to face him, takes him by both shoulders. "I wanted to see how you were holding up," he says. "That's all."

"It's been..." Aaron pauses as if searching for a word. "...difficult." He glances back at the bedrooms. "I've only just gotten Jack to go to sleep in his own bed. If he wakes up, he'll want to sleep with me."

That explained some of it, at least. "Is that every night?" Dave asks.

"It's most," Aaron says. He finally looks Dave in the eye. "I'm sure Emily's angry with me."

Dave sighs, because she's not and it might be easier if she were. "Emily's hurt," he admits. "But mostly because she thinks she upset you. She'll get over it."

"I can't do what she wants," Hotch says.  
"What does she want?" Dave asks, because even he isn't sure.

Hotch shakes his head and looks away. "She wants me to...I don't know. Talk. Cry. Be comforted. I don't know."

"And you can't do that," Dave says slowly.

"I can't - it's not going to make it better. I can't fake being better right now. It's - " Hotch shuts his mouth and Dave has to guess at his next words.

"It's too hard to fake being okay?" he asks.

"I fake okay all day," Hotch admits. "And when I get home, I fake being okay for Jack. I can't fake being okay for you and Emily, too."

"Hotch," Dave says, surprised. "Aaron. You think we don't know you're not okay? You think you have to put on a show for us? We know what just happened. We don't expect you to get the fuck over it, just like that."

"But you expect me to do something," Hotch argues. "You expect me to react to the comfort, to appreciate it, and sometimes it's just too much."

"We don't expect any of that," Dave returns, getting angry. Not angry at Hotch. Angry at himself maybe, for not making that clear. "I don't expect that. If Emily does, she'll get over it."

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do, though?" Hotch asks, his expression bleak. "Isn't that how it works? People say they're sorry and give me a casserole and things get better?"

"That's bullshit," Dave tells him. "You know what Emily said at the funeral? She said it's stupid that you have to spend the worst time of your life putting on a show for other people. She's not stupid, Aaron, and neither am I. We know this doesn't just go away. We know some days are better than others, and they're never the days you think they're gonna be - "

"Then why keep trying?" Hotch interrupts. "Why do you keep pushing? Why does Emily?"

"Because the alternative," Dave tells him, "is unacceptable. We're not going to pretend we don't care about you."

Hotch bites his lower lip and runs his hand through his hair and looks like he wants to run away. Dave wants to hug him again but remembers what he said earlier, about not being up for whatever he thought Dave was after. It's enough to make a man wonder.

"You know," Dave says, sitting on the couch and propping one foot up on the weathered trunk that serves as Hotch's new coffee table. Hotch gives him a look that says, _You do that in front of Jack and you're a dead man_ , and Dave ignores him. "I was really angry after Ruby Ridge."

"I seem to remember something like that," Hotch says dryly, even though he didn't know Dave at Ruby Ridge. Ruby Ridge had been Dave's bargaining chip, the one he'd eventually cashed in to start the BAU, but before that, in the year between, Dave had been angry.

"You don't know how angry," Dave says quietly. "I thought I was okay. Went home. Kept playing over and over in my mind. Whether I was wrong. Whether we should have done it differently. How many more marshals would have died, had we stuck with the standard rules of engagement. I knew I was right. The internal investigation said I was right. But the Director sold us out to the OPR hearings, to the Senate investigatory committee. The deal was to keep my mouth shut, let the Bureau take the hit. And they'd owe me one."

"You weren't okay," Hotch says quietly.

Dave chuckles. "I wasn't okay," he admits. "I started snapping at Theresa. Everything that came out of her mouth seemed so stupid and useless after that. It took me months, a year almost, to realize that it wasn't her I was angry with. It was me. And, uh, you know, by then we hadn't slept together in something like eight months. And it wasn't her. It was me." He shrugged. "Wasn't my lousy attitude either. I was just _so_ depressed that I couldn't get it up." He slides a sideways glance at Hotch, sees his jaw tighten. "So I get it," he says. "Sometimes there's too much else going on in your head for your body to keep up."

Aaron rubs his forehead with his fingertips. "That's really annoying, you know," he says. "How you always know what to say, whether I want to hear it or not."

"Hotch," Dave says with a sigh. "Despite all appearances to the contrary, we don't love you for your dick. If you want us to go away, you're going to need a better reason than that."

"What about Jack?" Aaron asks.

"What about him?" Dave asks. He knows where Hotch is going with this, or thinks he does, but he's going to push, make Hotch say it. Maybe it'll sound as stupid out loud as Dave thinks it will.

"What do you expect me to tell him?" Aaron gestured in frustration. "How do I explain the other people in Daddy's bed? What do I say to Jessica when Jack says Uncle Dave and Aunt Emily spent the night?"

"That's not something you have to worry about," Dave says. "We don't have to come over. We don't have to stay. We can make this work without setting up house, here. This isn't a traditional relationship, Aaron. We get to make the rules however we want."

Hotch shakes his head. "It won't be as easy as you make it sound," he murmurs.

"Of course not," Dave admits. "It never is. But we can make it as easy as we can and work it from there. What are you going to do? Be celibate until Jack turns eighteen? Twenty-one?"

"Of course not," Aaron says, but Dave knows better. He can see it - the thoughtful gleam in Aaron's eyes.

"Bullshit," Dave says. "You're plotting. You're trying to figure out how long you can get away with that excuse." Aaron has the grace to at least look guilty. "How is Jack going to learn to form intimate relationships with you running away from everyone who cares about you?"

Something in Aaron's face finally shifts and he sits down on the trunk next to Dave's foot. "Has Emily ever told you about her father?"

Dave frowns at the change of subject and starts to tell Aaron to get back on track and answer the question, but the truth is, he doesn't know much about Emily's father at all, so maybe Aaron's question has a purpose.

"I know he doesn't live with her mother," he says slowly. "I don't think she's ever said if they're divorced or not."

"They're not," Aaron says. "Her father is Catholic. He considers divorce a sin."

"Jesus," Dave says, because _he's_ Catholic and has three of them under his belt. "Hasn't he heard of an annulment?"

"He was a senator," Aaron continues. "My first command was setting up security clearance for her mother and the embassy staff. Her father...had a lot of breaches."

"Security breaches?" Dave asks wryly. He knows what Aaron means.

"My father had affairs, too," he says. "We talked about it, once, me and Emily. But her father was very publicly exposed and ended up resigning his seat. He never did anything after that. Kind of faded away into obscurity."

Dave remembers that, maybe. It was about ten years ago, give or take, and he'd never thought to link the subject of a stale news story to Emily and her mother. "I think I remember that," he says. "So what's the lesson here?"

Aaron smiles faintly. "No lesson," he says. "Emily said something to me the other night. She said all she'd ever learned from her father was how to be sad. I don't want that for Jack. I just don't know how to avoid it."

Dave sighs and hooks his elbow on the back of the couch. "Well," he says, trying not to be too much of a dick. "This isn't really a great start."

"What happens if Jack goes to school and says Daddy and Uncle Dave were kissing?" Aaron asks.

Dave shrugs and thinks that this is why he never had kids. "I don't know," he says. "What do the other gay parents tell the school? You're not a homophobe. Don't try to tell me that's the part that's bothering you."

Aaron makes a face. "It's going to be hard for Jack, growing up without Haley," he says quietly. "Without a mother at all. And that's my fault. I just don't want to make things harder on him. And it seems no matter what I do - " He shakes his head and Dave has him by the shoulder before he can get another word out.

"Don't you dare," he grits out, so angry, so suddenly, that he almost knocks Aaron back on the trunk. "Don't you dare let Foyet off the hook for what he did to Haley."

"I goaded him - " Aaron starts, but bites his lip.

Dave thinks maybe Aaron's finally catching on. A little. "Yeah?" he said. "And?"

Aaron closes his eyes, lines of pain creasing around them and around his mouth. "And he took her from me," he says, his voice a brittle thing. "And I miss her. I miss her so badly, Dave. And that's not fair to you and Emily. I don't know - I can't - One minute I need you, the next I feel like I'm screaming for her and I can't make her hear me and I don't know how I can feel both ways."

Dave sighs and gentles his hand, sliding it up to Aaron's neck, cupping gently, brushing his thumb up the line of muscle. He runs his tongue against his upper lip, searching for something to tell Aaron, to ease his conflict. " _Man never made any material as resilient as the human spirit_ ," he says. "That's how you can feel both ways."

Aaron draws in a shaky breath and sniffs. He opens his eyes. "Bernard Williams?" he asks. "Really, Dave?"

Dave shrugs with a bit more flourish than entirely necessary. "I went to a lecture he gave on internal and external reasons for action," he says. "Sharp-tongued old geezer. Nothing but good things to say about porn, though."

Aaron chuckles tiredly and that's when Jack cries out from the bedroom. Instantly, the stress lines and tension are back and Aaron looks pummeled when he jumps to his feet.

"Let me get this one," Dave offers, stopping Aaron with a hand to his chest.

"I have to be there for him," Aaron says.

"And you will be," Dave assures him. "Just let me take this one and give yourself a minute to get it together. Okay?"

Aaron hesitates and Dave can practically see the gears whirring in his head. He's always imagined he can watch Hotch think - maybe even hear the whirring. It's not like that with Reid - with Reid it's like things come out of his mouth without any kind of complicated process anywhere else. It's stunning and Dave never thought he'd see anyone who could leave Aaron Hotchner behind in book smarts.

Finally, Aaron nods, and Dave squeezes Aaron's neck and walks back to Jack's bedroom. He's always been good with kids, always been the favorite uncle, the one all his sisters' kids wanted to show off to and have on their side in an argument. He can't remember a time when he's wanted his own, though. His first wife probably can, but there's been a lot between then and now, and he thinks it's probably for the better.

"Hey, kiddo," he greets Jack, flipping on the light. "What's going on?"

"I want Daddy," Jack protests inarticulately through twin obstructions of snot and tears. He winces against the light and rubs his hands across his eyes and over his face.

"Okay," Dave says, crossing the room to sit on the - really low - bed. "I'll go get him. You should tell me what's scary, though. I don't want to leave you in here alone if it might be coming back."

Jack wipes his nose on his sleeve and sniffles pathetically. "Mommy," he whimpers.

"Hey, hey," Dave says, remembering that he's really better once they get to the age where they want to sneak beer and porn. "Come here, kiddo."

Jack sort of flings himself at Dave, and Dave gets an arm around him and boosts him up to his shoulder. He wipes his face against Dave's shirt which is fine because it's never really been one of Dave's favorites anyway. He hiccups and sort of half-sobs. Dave cups his hand against the back of Jack's little head, and Jack cries himself out in what feels like less than a minute. He's only four but he has so much of Aaron in him, a gravity that seems ridiculous on someone small, that being treated like an adult calms him right down.

"It was a dream," he says, wriggling away to settle on Dave's lap. He runs his pajama sleeve under his nose. "If I don't go to sleep, it won't come back."

"Oh," Dave says, thinking, _nice move, Hotch_. "You know all about that, huh?"

Jack nods solemnly. Dave pulls his handkerchief from his back pocket and offers it to Jack. Jack holds it and looks at it, then looks at Dave. "Thank you, Uncle Dave," he says. "What is it?"

Dave sighs, because Kleenex has ruined the world. "It's called a handkerchief," he says. "It's like a tissue, except instead of throwing it away, we wash it, so we don't have to keep buying more." Jack keeps staring at him. "Blow your nose," Dave orders. Jack does so. "You know," he says conversationally, or as conversationally as one gets with a four-year-old, "dreams are sometimes your brain's way of telling you what it's thinking when you're asleep."

Jack nods. "Daddy says your dreams tell you what's bothering you," he says seriously. "Or what's making you happy."

"What's bothering you, Jack?" Dave asks.

"Mommy's not there," Jack says, leaning his head against Dave's stomach. "I get out of the box and Mommy's gone."

Dave takes a deep breath and braces against the breaking of his heart. He knows how it happened. Aaron told Jack to 'work the case' and so he hugged his mother goodbye and ran off to hide in the window seat. And that was the last he ever saw of her. "You know," Dave says when he thinks he can sound like a grown-up. "I remember when you were born. Your dad called me and asked me to come see you. You were still in the hospital because you were a little early. And you know who I saw when I walked in?"

"Who?" Jack asks. He already sounds sleepy.

"I saw your mom," Dave says. "She was standing at the window, looking in at you. You couldn't see her, but she was watching over you the whole time."

"Daddy says she's watching over us from Heaven," Jack says.

"Yeah," Dave agrees. "Just like in the hospital. You can't see her, but she's there."

Jack's quiet for a long time. "Uncle Dave?" he asks. "Where's Heaven?"

Dave sighs. "I don't know, kiddo," he says. "But I bet if your mom's there, it's a real nice place."

The sound in the doorway is quiet, nothing more than a swallow, but Dave hears it and looks up. Aaron's there, watching them, and the corner of his mouth turns up a little as he nods at Jack. Dave looks down. Jack's asleep again, curled up against Dave's chest and stomach, and he's not going anywhere anytime soon.

Dave glances back up at Aaron with his best non-verbal plea for help, and Aaron finally crosses the room and eases Jack away from Dave and back into bed, tucking the covers around him. Dave retreats to the hall and waits for Aaron to join him.

"Thank you," Aaron says as he eases Jack's door closed. His eyes are sad and full of pain, but they don't look hopeless and that's an improvement. "You're good with him."

Dave shrugs because he was trying to prove a point to Aaron and Aaron ended up proving his own. "He misses his mom," he says.

"Yeah," Aaron says. "He's going to. Probably forever." He glances at his son's door and smiles a little. "But as long as other people remember her, he'll remember her, and that's what's important."

Dave nods, and he knows it's a little brusque. Kids. They always did him in. Good thing he never had any of his own. "I should get going," he says. "Let you get some sleep."

Aaron nods. "Dave," he says. "Thank you for coming over. It was good to have you here." He initiates the hug this time, but Dave makes sure to hold him tightly. It's a little painful to let go.

* * *

"Dave?" Emily called from upstairs as he let himself in the house.

"It's me," he called back, tossing his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter.

"I'm in the bath," she answered.

Dave dropped the mail he'd been glancing through and headed upstairs. Emily'd left the door a quarter-way open - an invitation. Dave knocked anyway before pushing it the rest of the way open and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course," Emily said. "Hey."

"Hey." She'd turned his bathroom into some kind of personal spa. The overheads were off and the room was lit by half a dozen pillar candles. A bunch of the little ones - tealights, and Dave wasn't going to dwell on why he knew that - were scattered around. The bathtub was crowned with bubbles which almost hid all the important parts, unless the water moved. Emily had a book in her hand and a glass of red wine sitting in the tub facing and the bottle sat on the lid of the closed toilet. Dave moved the wine and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Here," Emily said, offering him her glass. "How'd it go? You're home earlier than I expected."

"Yeah," he said, taking the glass and rolling his wrist to swirl the wine. He inhaled the aroma and then took a deep drink. "It was a little awkward."

"More than a little if you're home now," Emily said. She leaned over and handed him the paperback book she was holding. He took it and placed it on the counter, away from where it could get wet.

"I have a proposition for you," he said without really answering her question.

Emily tilted her head and took the wine glass back. The bubbles shifted away from her breasts and back, and Dave admired the glancing views the rippling of the water offered him. She took a drink and held out the glass again. "What kind of proposition?" she asked.

Dave took the glass back and drank. "You want to come along next time?" he asked.

"Come along?" Emily repeated, laughing. "Come along the next time you go to have sex with Hotch?"

"Well," he said. "Yes. We think it might work better that way."

"We?" Emily asked, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "David Rossi, what are you talking about?"

"Haley never knew," Dave said. "No one ever knew." He reached out and took her hand. "You know. So it seems wrong that you're not with us."

Emily blinked and her mouth dropped open in a way that wouldn't be attractive on anyone else. "You want to have a threesome?" she asked.

"Maybe more than one. If you were interested," Dave said, bringing her fingers to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "If you wanted to. If you were okay with being with both of us."

"Oh, God," Emily said. "That's so weird."

"Weird?" Dave repeated, his heart sinking a little. She'd been so good about his bisexuality, so encouraging about him and Hotch.

"Not weird," she said dismissively, as if he'd been the one to coin the term. "Oh my God. Amazing." She reached for him, hands wet and soft on either side of his head as she kissed him. "Seriously," she said, backing away just far enough to talk. "Hotch is okay with this plan?"

Dave grinned at her. "It was pretty much his idea," he told her, reserving credit for his joke about needing backup - at least it had started out a joke.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Aaron Hotchner," she said. "Our Unit Chief? Six foot, buck-eighty? Dark hair, brown eyes?"

"I promise," Dave said, stroking a finger up her jawline. "He's not that bad outside work."

Emily's eyes went hot and she rubbed her thumb across Dave's lower lip. "Are you going to be okay with sharing?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked, as if he didn't have a pretty good idea.

Emily slipped her hand down from his face to his neck, inside the collar of his shirt and stroked over his collarbone. "If we do this," she murmured. "Hotch is going to kiss me. Slip his tongue into my mouth. Maybe bite my lip."

It was ridiculous. Dave had been at some level of hard for going on two hours and with Emily's words, he was straining against the fly of his jeans like he was 18 and didn't know any way to release the tension but to come. "Like this," he asked, going to his knees next to the tub and kissing her just as she said, slipping his tongue into her mouth to taste and scraping her lower lip gently between his teeth as he pulled away. "What else would he do to you?" Dave asked her, pitching his voice low. His knees were damp from water that must have spilled out of the tub when they were kissing.

"He might touch my breasts," Emily pointed out as Dave's hands found them, wet and soapy from the bubbles. "He might slide his fingers into my cunt," she said, breath gusting against Dave's cheek. "Or take my hand and wrap it around his cock. He might even want me to suck him."

She was up on her knees, her bare, dripping wet breasts pressed flat against Dave's shirt as she whispered against his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck. Dave let his hands slide down the dip of her back and cupped them over the curves of her ass, squeezing gently. He was seconds from dragging her out of the tub and just fucking her on the floor. She pulled back, just far enough to look him in the face, her eyes serious, her tone no longer teasing. "Will you be okay with him fucking me?"

Dave knew why she asked, knew why she was so concerned. He'd been cuckolded before and even the memory sent him into a cold rage. He licked his lips and tried to articulate why it was different, why it didn't matter this time.

"Or do you just want us both to do you?" she asked when he was silent a beat too long.

Hell, that was a picture. Dave could see it, could almost feel it, Aaron fucking him like he had that night years ago, while Emily curled around him, hot and slick. He boosted her out of the tub, water going everywhere as he brought her down on top of him, dragging her mouth onto his.

"Dave," she managed, and then he didn't let her speak, kissing her until she was breathless. Her hands fumbled with his buttons and her legs were slick under his hands as he spread her. Her knees squeezed his hips and he had to get his clothes off and feel her against him. "Dave, talk to me," she pleaded. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Emily, it's going to be so hot," he promised, trying to get his pants open, get his cock free. His hands were wet and she was hot and squirming over him and none of that was making it easier. "When I watch him slide into you and know exactly what you feel like around his dick." He shifted his hand between her legs and pushed into her, demonstrating. "He can make you feel so good, I promise."

Emily worked on his pants as he stroked his fingers in and out of her and pushed them away from his dick. Dave lifted his hips and she worked them down to his knees. "Dave, the condoms," she said, and he pressed her full-length against his body.

"Fuck the condoms," he told her, because the condoms were in the bedroom, a million miles away, and he wanted to be in her _now_. She was on the Pill and he could set a clock by her diligence - literally, her watch beeped at nine and she had to be doing something damned interesting to _not_ get up and take it. She still insisted on condoms and he didn't know why but he chalked it up to growing up in the eighties and nineties. "I'll pull out, if you want."

She laughed but it sounded strained. "What are you, in high school?" she asked.

"Emily, we talked about this," he said against her skin, and it was true, but they hadn't come to any conclusions. They were monogamous, they were clean, and they were using a steady form of birth control, but Emily wasn't quite ready to let go of whatever safety net condoms provided. He pushed up against her, his cock sliding against the inside of her leg, pressing against her.

"Okay," she said. "But pull out." She reached down and wrapped her hand around him and slipped just that little bit to the side and he was inside her, feeling _everything_.

"Oh, God, Em," he murmured, his voice hushed and reverent in the echo of the bathroom. "This is so good. You feel so good around me."

Emily closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his shoulder, and he wrapped one arm around her back and the other around the leg she had hitched over his hip. She was rolling her hips, fucking him just as hard as he was fucking into her, and he rolled her when he thought he had enough room, pressing her back into the fluffy rug and sinking deep, completely, into her. It was amazing, sinking into her again and again, and he felt the muscles in his legs and ass start to tense and shake earlier than he'd wanted.

He pulled back a little and kissed Emily's face, her cheeks and mouth and forehead, her chin, and when she still didn't open her eyes, her nose. "Em," he whispered. "It's okay, I promise." She opened her eyes then and they were wide and dark and a little wary and she looked so young he had to find her hand and bring it to his mouth. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her palm and her wrist and asked, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, even smiled, and he had to kiss her on the mouth for that. She was tense, a little too much, and he moved his hand down stroke her clit. She shuddered at his firm touch, squeezing around him and said, "Did you feel that?"

"Yeah," he said, working his thumb in circles. "Yeah. It's good. How does it feel to you?"

"Scary," she said. "I feel naked."

Dave slowed his movements. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, reminding himself that the condoms were just in the bedroom, not really as far away as they seemed. They could relocate to the bed and they could start over again in a matter of minutes.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's okay. I trust you. It's just been...a really long time. Since I - you know." She flushed, which was completely stunning and endearing, considering what they were _doing_ , and Dave had to kiss her again.

"I'll pull out," he promised again. He wondered what it would take to be allowed to come inside her, wondered what would convince her of the safety and security of sex without a latex barrier.

"You should come on my stomach," she whispered. "Imagine. If Hotch were here, he could lick it off."

"Fuck, Emily," Dave said, tensing and freezing over her as he waited for that effects of that image to ease. "Jesus Christ." He gazed at her admiringly. "Have I told you how in love with your brain I am?"

She laughed lightly. "Do you need to come now?" she asked uncertainly. She's squeezing lightly around him and he's not even sure she realizes she's doing it. It's amazingly good and he doesn't want to give it up just yet.

"I'm okay for a few more minutes," Dave said. He started fucking her again, building up the tension again, and slid his hand under her leg, brushing his fingers over her ass. "We could both be in you," he told her, slipping just inside. "Fill you up and - " He kissed her, sliding in deep, losing words, and just fucking her, fucking into her, feeling her around him and touching her anywhere that would make her cry out until she clenched around him, gasping and squeezing and twisting.

"Em," Dave said, dragging his mouth away from hers. "Em, hold on." He gripped the base of his cock and pulled out - it was hard, so hard, all he wanted to do was drive into her, spill inside her, and stay there, holding her close, hold them together, but he promised, so he pulled out and then her hand was on his, on his cock, her fingers sliding between his.

"Come on my stomach," she said, and he did, waves of pleasure pulsing through him as he spilled onto her pale skin. His come was thicker than the water still beading on her skin and clouded. She caught a bit on her thumb and pressed it to her mouth, which made him surge without effect.

"You need a bath," he commented, stroking her hair back from her face. He slipped his other hand into her, three fingers, and rubbed her clit with his thumb until she came again. There was a sponge-thing on the edge of the tub and he reached over, dipped it in the water, and daubed at the mess on her stomach until she took it away form him and threw it in the cooling water.

He stroked her hip, half on top of her, half curled around her. "Theresa fucked around to get back at me," he said, picking up the conversation where they'd left it. "I shut her out, pushed her away, and she fucked around to punish me. To embarrass me." He pressed a kiss to Emily's temple. "She did it because I made her hate me," he confessed. "You and Hotch...you're willing to be together because I want you to. Because I think it's hot. That's - " He shook his head. "That's so fucking hot, Emily." He sought out her hand, tangled their fingers together. "How did I ever get so lucky?"

* * *

Emily finds Dave in the bedroom nook, reading. "Hey," he greets her, glancing up over the rims of his glasses. He's so hot in those ridiculous things, Emily can't help but plant her hands on the arms of the chair and lean in to kiss him. "Hey," he says again when she's done, his voice pitched to a soft growl. He puts his book aside and Emily puts one hand on his chest and says, "Stay here."

The chair was originally some decorator piece, put in the window with a tiny table to simulate coziness. But Emily started reading there, late at night when she couldn't sleep, and Dave reads there early in the morning sometimes, and it turned into somewhere to have sex when they want something different, when one of them goes looking for the other who left the bed, or when they want to leave the shades open - the window points to the backyard and the grove of trees between Dave's house and the water of a nearby lake. Emily rummages through the nightstand to find what she wants and is vaguely aware of Dave folding his glasses and placing them on the table with his book. His eyes flicker over the items she brings back and to his credit, only looks mildly surprised. Then again, compared to some of the things she's thrown at him, this isn't that shocking.

She kneels between his legs, running her hands up his thighs and over his erection, which isn't full yet but is growing in his jeans. She opens up the fly and pulls him out, taking the head of his cock in her mouth.

"Emily," he murmurs, brushing his fingers through her hair. He likes to see her face when she does this. She glances up at him and watches how hot his eyes get as she takes him deeper, works her hand inside his pants. His fingers are gentle in her hair, his thumb stroking against her temple.

She feels bad that he's not enough, that this isn't enough anymore, except that she knows he agrees. She knows he misses Hotch as badly as she does, maybe even more.

She's not terribly gentle with him, not playing around, because she's thinking about other things, things she wants to do after this. His cock gets big in her mouth and she has to slide off a little, has to reorient. "Take your pants off," she murmurs and he lifts his hips and shoves everything down. She helps with the rest, pants and boxers and shoes and socks, until it's all cast aside, and he's unbuttoning his shirt, too. She doesn't wait, though, reaching for the things she left on the table. She rolls a condom on him, not to make cleaning up easier, but because they'd use it if Hotch were here. Condom, and lube, stroked on heavy-handedly, and his low groan at the twist of her wrist makes her shiver. She almost can't remember when it was just her and Dave, and not Hotch, or maybe she just doesn't want to anymore. She stands up and pulls her shirt over her head, and Dave strips off his own. He's naked, sitting in the chair, wearing just a condom, slicked up for her. He looks good and she feels a flash of possessiveness. He's hers, they're both hers, and eventually, they'll be together again. She leaves her bra on while she undoes her jeans and peels them down her legs. Dave reaches out, strokes her hip, and then uses both hands to work her panties down. She drops her bra and backs up to the chair, glancing around at Dave over her shoulder.

It's awkward at first, getting situated. Facing away always is, and she reaches back to help him line himself up, sliding him into her ass. He groans and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. "What is this, my birthday?" he asks.

"If it were your birthday, I'd be the one fucking _your_ ass," she points out lightly, hooking her knee over the arm of the chair. It's hard enough in this position - he'll have to lift her - so she hooks her other leg the same way, spreading herself wide, and giving him just enough leverage to push in and out of her.

Dave laughs against her neck because it's true, and he brings his hands to her breasts, massaging them. He's going to have to grab her hips to fuck her and he's taking his time getting to that.

The vibrator's on the table, and she leans forward to grab it, but she's miscalculated and she's just that much too far away. Dave's left hand leaves her breast, his arm brushes the length of hers, and he picks up the toy and brings it to her hand without letting go. "Is this what you want?" he asks.

"Yes," Emily says, and brings it rest between her legs. Dave hasn't let go. He wants to help. Good. She slides it against her clit, then down where she's wet, slicking it up. It's cool against her pussy and she knows turning on the vibration would warm it up but she wants to get it inside her first.

Dave's fingers get there first, slipping inside her, stroking, teasing, opening her up, and when she pushes the vibrator in beside them, it goes easily. He groans again, slides his fingers out, and trails them up her leg. She thumbs the switch at the base and the buzz is sudden and harsh in the quiet of the room. She has to moan, too, because it's tight, really, everything is tight. The position, the vibrator, Dave inside her, his hand braced on her shoulder, his mouth panting against her neck.

"Is this what Hotch feels like when you're both inside me?" she asks. "Is it the same? Is it even close?"

Dave's gasp is harsh and audible against her hair and for a minute, he doesn't answer. "Hotch is bigger," he finally says. "There's more pressure because his weight's behind it. So that makes it feel tighter. But he doesn't vibrate." There's humor in his voice, if not a real smile.

"Do you want me to turn it off?" Emily asks.

"Hell, no." His hands finally settle on her hips and pull her down on him, pull her flush with his body. It burns a little, aches a little, and his grip is firm enough that she'll have bruises tomorrow, and she relishes every twinge. She closes her eyes and lets him have control, lets him fuck her, and she lets the vibrator slide out a little bit before pushing it back in. "That feels fucking fantastic," Dave growls in her ear, pushing her up. "God, Emily. You're amazing. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?"

"Me and Hotch?' she asks, because she's determined, she's really fucking _determined_ that there will be no worst-case scenario. That Hotch will not leave them.

"You and Hotch," Dave promises, his lips dragging against the delicate skin between her neck and shoulder. He's fucking her too hard to call it kissing or teasing - his mouth touches her skin when he thrusts in and doesn't when he draws out. "Fuck, what does it feel like to have both of us inside you?"

Emily hesitates but she asked him so it's a fair question. She turns her head to answer and she can't quite see him, but she can feel his nose and mouth against her cheek and his warm breath on her skin. "Full," she says, which seems like the most inadequate and cliched word ever. "Overflowing. Like I can't fit inside my body anymore, like I'll burst at the seams, except the two of you are holding me together on each side." She bites her lip and the vibrator slides up against her g-spot and she shudders, pulling in tighter. There's nowhere to retreat, though, no way to clench in around herself and the vibrating tip sends sine waves of sensation through her thighs and stomach. She's unexpectedly light-headed and the sound she makes almost by accident is just this side of anguished. It's deep and spreads through her body and it takes a minute to hit her clit and turn into a real orgasm with panting cries and shivers and all the rest of it. Dave holds her tightly to him while it's happening. He doesn't stop fucking her, not really, but it's just a body deep pulse - he's not drawing out, not until she's catching her breath and bracing herself on the arms of the chair.

It's not quite like Hotch being there. She misses his arms anchoring her, his chest walling her in against Dave, his mouth and eyes and the smile with the dimple that always makes her think, _he's so happy_.

Dave is pushing her hair over her far shoulder and kissing the back of her neck, and it grounds her enough to start rocking a counterpoint again. She fumbles for the vibrator - turns it off and pulls it out of herself a little too quickly. She could have another orgasm probably if she lets it go, but she's so tender right now and doesn't actually want to shatter and melt away like an icicle that can't keep a grip on its eave.

Dave doesn't protest. He's close, mouthing any skin he can reach and growling low in his chest. His thrusts lengthen as he moves her just the way he wants her. She can't help but moan with him. He comes with a string of "fucks" and her name interspersed. "Fuck, Em," he murmurs, a last one for each, and drags his forehead away from her shoulder. This is always the worst part, trying to find where she ends and he begins again.

She's sore when she brings her legs down and stands up, the muscles in her hips stiff. She sets her hands on her hips, where Dave's hands had been. She's a little numb, can't quite tell if she's tender there or not, although she'll guess she is. Dave is taking off the condom so she goes over to the bed and pulls down the covers and crawls inside. She aches a bit - she hasn't had a dick in her ass since before they tracked down Foyet, and she didn't give Dave any kind of chance to open her up. She stretches out on her stomach and curls her arms around her pillow, tucking her cheek in close and closing her eyes.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," Dave says, coming around to her side of the bed. She's facing the wrong way so he kisses her bare shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah, good," she murmurs into the pillow and he puts his hand on her shoulder, where he'd kissed, and a few minutes later, she hears the sound of the shower. She thinks about their first time together, the first time they'd sandwiched her between them, the last time they'd had Hotch with them. At the time, they hadn't known it would be the last time in...who knows how long. She takes a deep breath and listens for Dave. She wants him again, already, wants his hands on her, but she's exhausted, spent from fucking in the chair, and she feels needy, so she just hugs the pillow closer.

He comes out after a few minutes, turns off the light, slides into the bed with her. She reaches for him and he takes her hand in his and kisses it. "You can't replace Aaron with a toy, you know," he says softly, in that voice she hates. Blunt force trauma with the truth. Dave is an expert. He's usually gentler with her for no reason that she's ever been able to fathom, even before they started sleeping together. She knows he must be really concerned for her state of mind if he's trying it on her now, but that doesn't make the urge to slap him subside.

"I'm not replacing him," she says serenely, which really should be Dave's first clue. "I'm just holding his place."

* * *

Hotch had asked her to accompany him on a custodial interview in West Virginia and they were twenty miles into the return trip before Emily caved to her need to address the elephant in the room.

"Dave said," she started, and then closed her mouth. "Is it all right to talk about this now?"  
Hotch flexed his fingers on the steering wheel and raised his eyebrows. Emily glanced at his hands. They were strong and careful, and she tried to imagine them on her body, parting her legs or cupping over her breasts. It wasn't difficult. She felt warm, down low, and a little breathless as she waited for him to answer.

"I suppose so," he said. "Emily," he said before she had a chance to respond, "I...didn't meant to impose...."

"No, no, you're not," she said quickly, and God, this was going to be terribly awkward. "I just wanted to make sure that, that you're okay with it."

Hotch kept his eyes fixed on the road and the muscles in his jaw twitched. "I'm okay with it," he said softly.

"Okay," Emily said and looked at her knees. "Um."

She felt his eyes slide over to her and then he said, "Are you?"

"Oh, yes," she assured him and then blushed, realizing how enthusiastic she'd sounded. "I am, really," she said. "I didn't meant to make it sound like - but I mean, yes. I do. I am. Okay with it." She bit her lip and glanced over at Hotch. The corner of his mouth was twitching. "Oh, now you're laughing at me," she said. "Go on, I can see it."

"I'm not laughing at you," Hotch said, but he did smile. It was a rare thing, to see that expression on his face, and Emily decided she didn't mind feeling silly if that's what it took. "I didn't feel right about...being with...Dave without being sure you were okay with it."

"He didn't tell you?" she asked, a little alarmed. What _had_ Dave told him?

"He told me," Hotch said, glancing sideways. His gaze was steady, assessing, the one that used to make Emily nervous when she'd first started. "I just wanted to be sure."

Emily bit her lip and glanced at the countryside passing by her window. "When I was first assigned to the unit," she said, "I felt like I didn't belong. Like I had to prove myself. And I sought out your approval because I wanted to stay. I worked hard because I wanted you to think I was worthy of the position."

"You deserve your position," Hotch said firmly. His eyebrows knit and she could tell he was worried about her motivations.

"I know," she said quickly. "I mean, I know that now. The thing is, since I've gotten to know you, since you've become a friend, I - I don't worry about losing my place. I worry about letting you down." She tangled her fingers together, watching him frown. "I'm not doing this because I'm worried about what you think of me," she says. "I'm just trying to explain, that you don't have to worry about having a personal relationship is going to disrupt our working relationship because how I feel about you, personally, is, actually, very good for my work." She sighed, everything coming out hash. "I guess like they say in the Godfather, I'd go to the mattresses for you and - I guess in this case literally - but what I'm trying to say, is that it's because I respect you personally, not just because of your position."

"Wow," Hotch said, braking to a gentle halt at the foot of an exit ramp. He glanced over at her. "You really have been spending a lot of time with Dave if you're quoting The Godfather." He inclined his head at the McDonalds across the road to their left. "You want a milkshake?"

"Yes," Emily said, her face flaming. "Yes, a milkshake would be good."

Hotch bought them both milkshakes - chocolate for Emily, vanilla for him - and sat in the playground, on one of the FryGuy bouncy rides. Emily perched carefully on the one next to him, trying not to let herself be bowled over by the cognitive dissonance of her very formal boss - who she was going to have in her bed, with her male lover, this weekend - sitting on a child's toy in his suit.

"This is weird," Emily said.

"Tell me about it," Hotch commented. He looked at her and smiled. "I've known Dave for a long time," he said. "I've never seen him so...forthcoming."

"Well, he doesn't really have a choice," Emily admitted, taking a sip of her milkshake. The cold drink and the crisp air on her face felt good, cooled her off. "It's pretty hard to hide behavior from a profiler."

"It's good for him," Hotch agreed. "He seems happy."

Emily smiled, pleased. "I hope so," she said.

"I...don't want to threaten that." Hotch looked at her straight on, face _not_ hidden by his usual mask. She hadn't seen that much, and she liked the feeling that Hotch was having an honest conversation with her, not as a boss but as a friend.

"You're not," Emily promised him. She moved her straw around her cup with her mouth and added, "In fact, I think it'll make him happier."

Hotch frowned. "Why would you say that?"

"Have you ever tried to say no to him?" Emily asked, grinning around her straw. But Hotch's frown just got deeper so she set her milkshake on FryGuy's head and tried to explain. "You know - I mean we both know - Dave..." she shrugged, unable to put so neat a label as "bisexual" on Dave, even if that might be what best fit, "...is flexible. And traditional, at the same time. I think it's hard for him to commit to one model and shut out the other. He's just not wired that way. And I can do what I can, but I think this way he doesn't have to have lie to me and he doesn't have to give something up, and Hotch...he wants to be with you."

"What about what you want?" Hotch asked.

"What about what you want?" Emily countered. "Being with him is important enough to you to have sex with me?"

"Emily," he said, and it was gentle and surprised and actually came with a smile. "Maybe I want that, too."

Emily knew she looked surprised - she wasn't, actually, terribly good at hiding her feelings. She hadn't really thought Hotch had ever given her a second glance. Sure, sometimes she seemed to work as well with him as she did with Dave, but he'd always been to incredibly formal....

"Oh," she said.

"I wouldn't have broached the subject," Hotch said. "I used to think that it might be nice. Someday. But I would never have put you in that position." For a moment he sounds almost stern and then he sighs and shrugs one shoulder and lifts his eyebrows in that _what-can-you-do?_ gesture that he only seems to make in reference to Dave and says, "Fortunately, I had Dave to do it for me."

Emily couldn't help but laugh, sliding her straw into her mouth so she could finish her milkshake. When she was done and the flame in her cheeks had died down, she glanced back up at Hotch. "So you'll come to dinner on Friday?" she asked. "Dave's going to make enough food for an army. For some reason he thinks one more person means three times more food."

Hotch swung his leg over the toy until he was standing next to it and offered her his hand so she could slide off her own seat. His palm was warm and his fingers wrapped around her hand, covering it, and he squeezed. Emily felt a flush, as if he were already stripping away her clothes, already touching the skin beneath, already tangled up with her and Dave. "I wouldn't miss it," he assured her.

* * *

Emily had asked if she could stop by, so Aaron expects her when the doorbell rings. Jack looks up at him, so Aaron says, "Let's go get it together, buddy."

He checks the peephole - it's her, and her hands are full of...he's not sure what, but he opens the door anyway.

"Aunt Emily!" Jack cheers, jumping up and down. Dave has always been Uncle Dave, so Aaron pretty much had to concede to Aunt Emily. "What did you bring?" he asks.

"Jack," Aaron warns. He knows Jack's hoping for gifts and wants to discourage that.

"Well," Emily says, fumbling in the door with all her bags. "I made cookies, but it looks like I made too many for just me and your Uncle Dave, so I brought some for you and your dad."

"I'm sure Uncle Dave thinks you made too many for him, too," Aaron says dryly, because there is no possible way Dave agrees with that assessment.

"Uncle Dave has a physical coming up and doesn't need four dozen cookies," Emily shoots back. "The problem, Jack, is that they're not decorated yet. So I need you to help me decorate them and then you can keep some, and I'll take some back to Uncle Dave."

"You know what happens when you give a Jack a cookie," Aaron says mildly, relatching the door and relieving Emily of two of her bags.

"Huh?" she asks, the joke lost on her, and Aaron kisses her on the cheek. He's making up for the last time she was over, and she's kindly pretending she doesn't notice. "Hey, can you put those on the kitchen table for me? We need a big place to work."

"Of course," he says, and carries the bags into the kitchen.

"Robots!" Jack exclaims when the cookies are revealed.

"Because robots are awesome," Emily tells him, covering the table with waxed paper and laying out tubes of icing and sprinkles and candy pieces.

Jack's not much into robots, but Aaron suspects he will be after tonight. Emily is into robots and dystopian futures and alien invasions. Jack seems to gravitate to her and her idea of fun in a way he doesn't with Aaron or Dave. For a while, Aaron worried that Jack was looking to Emily as a replacement for Haley, but he's not quite as concerned anymore. Emily's about as far away a personality from Haley as one can get, and Aaron's more confident that Jack sees that, too. If he can love Emily without forgetting his mother, maybe Aaron can, too.

Aaron's not really invited to the cookie decorating frenzy, so he straightens up around the apartment and lets Jack show him each robot masterpiece as it's finished, and provides tall glasses of milk in which to dip robots headfirst.

Jack is a mess when he's done, but happy, so Aaron promises Emily will tuck him in and read a goodnight story before wrestling him into a bath. Icing doesn't appear to be water-soluble so Hotch makes a note to ban it from the house completely - an admittedly idle threat. He gets Jack into PJs - Jack wants PJs with robots on them now and Aaron is probably going to cave before the weekend's over - and hands him over to Emily with _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_ as a post hoc warning.

Emily's already cleaned up the kitchen, restoring it to its spotless state, with Jack's share of the cookies neatly stacked in a plastic container. With nothing else to do, Aaron opens a bottle of wine and sets out two glasses. After a few minutes, Emily ducks out of the room and tells him Jack is ready to be tucked in.

"Hey," Aaron says, sitting on the edge of Jack's bed. "Did Aunt Emily read the cookie story?"

"Yes," Jack said. "But I know that one. So she told me one about robots."

 _Great_ , Aaron thinks, knowing that now he'll have to get caught up on robots, but actually he really doesn't mind. "The cookie story was more for her anyway," he confides. "She's never read it before."

Jack looks kind of alarmed - his world is small and he's never read a book an adult hasn't read first. They go through their nighttime ritual and Aaron gives Jack kisses and hugs and turns on the nightlight and leaves the door open a crack.

Emily's lingering in the kitchen, her fingers tangled together in a way that shows her awkwardness. "Hi," she says when he finds her. "I was just getting ready to take off...."

"Stay a little longer," Aaron invites. "I was a bad host last time you were here. May I pour you a glass of wine?"

"Hotch," she says, sounding more like herself. "Aaron. You never have to be a host. Not to me."

He pours them each a glass anyway and suggests they go into the living room. He'd turned down the lights when she was reading to Jack, and the reading lamps at each end of the couch cast a warmer glow on the room than the stark overheads.

"To robots," he offers, holding up his glass. "Because I'll be hearing a lot more about them from now on."

"I'm sorry," Emily says, flushing prettily as she taps her glass against his. "I saw this cookie cutter on sale and I had to get it for me. I told Rossi it was for Jack so he'd stop making fun of me, but I'm pretty sure he saw right through that excuse."

"Don't be sorry," Aaron tells her. "He had a good time. I appreciate it."

Emily nods and sips from her glass. "Are you and he okay?" she asks. "You and Dave. You're okay, right?"

"Yes," Aaron says, baffled that she would be asking that. He should be making sure she and Dave are fine, not the other way around. "Yes, Dave and I are fine."

She bites her lip and nods. "So it's just you and me?"

It takes him a minute to catch on, to realize that she's worried that she's said or done something to disrupt their relationship, to break apart the fragile triangle they'd formed. That it was her and not him.

She and Dave are good at communicating - Aaron's noticed because Dave's been famous for just not bothering - but Aaron knows Dave is cautious about sharing other people's secrets. Sometimes he expects her to know something because Dave does and it doesn't always work that way.

"Emily," he says. "I'm sorry for how I acted the other day."

"No," she protests instantly. "You don't have to - "

"Yes, I do," he interrupts right back. "Listen. I - I can't be ready to jump in where we were before."

"Dave said you needed some time," Emily says. "I thought maybe he was just trying to be gentle."

"Yes, except that he's Dave," Aaron counters and is pleased when she smiles.

"I don't mean to push," she says. "I just, I get impatient. I desperately want to do something to make it better and I don't know how."

"I know," Aaron says, and then as an extension of faith confesses, "I don't know how either. Sometimes it feels like it'll never get better."

Emily takes his hand and squeezes. "It sounds exhausting," she says, and he realizes she's right.

"Jack wakes up," he tries to explain. "He has nightmares and he wants to sleep with me and if he's there, I don't want to close my eyes. I'm afraid he'll disappear."

"Hotch," Emily says softly, and sets her glass on the coffee table. Aaron almost reaches for a coaster and then decides he doesn't give a shit. She and Dave are determined to prove to him that appearances don't matter and he's starting to think they might be right. She slides an arm around his shoulder and he leans forward and sets his own glass on the trunk without a coaster.

And then he keeps on leaning, tilting down, down, until his head is on her lap and her arm is curled across his chest. Emily hums, her fingers going to his hair, his forehead, the tip of his ear. He lets her soothe him, stroke his scalp and his face, and he closes his eyes and lets himself get carried with her rhythm. He doesn't mean to fall asleep but it's easy to let her keep watch - he's always trusted her with that much.

The buzzing of her phone wakes him but he doesn't move as she answers. It's Dave, he can tell immediately. "Hey," Emily says, just above a whisper. "No, I'm still here. Hotch is asleep and I thought I'd stay for a bit."

Aaron stirs to give her warning and feels her fingertips smooth against his temple. "Hm, give me the phone," he requests, holding up one hand.

"Yeah, you woke him up," Emily says. "He wants to talk to you." She presses the phone into Aaron's hand and he brings it to his ear.

"Don't believe a word she says," he yawns into the receiver. "I'm fucking your girlfriend over here."

Emily's laugh is relieved, like she'd thought his sense of humor had died with Haley, and maybe for a while, he had thought so, too.

"Not with that limp dick you're not," Dave shoots back at him, and Aaron chuckles. A week ago it had seemed like a shameful secret, a failing. A wound that would never heal. Now he was joking about it with Dave and falling asleep on Emily's lap.

"Thanks for the loan," Aaron says sincerely. "It was a nice evening."

"You can keep her for the night," Dave offers. "I gotta warn you though, she hogs the covers."

"I'm well aware of that," Aaron assures him. "I'm sending her back to you. I appreciate the offer, though."

"Are you guys talking about me like I'm chattel again?" Emily asks plaintively.

"I'll look for her," Dave says. "Get some sleep."

"Dave," Aaron adds, because he's still half-asleep and because he feels so very close to both of them right now.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe. Maybe this weekend," he says. "We can do something." He hates to ask Jessica to take Jack overnight. It feels like abdicating his duty. But maybe if he explains that he needs just one night of sleep, just one night away from the grief and the nightmares, maybe he can justify it to himself as well as to her. "I can't promise - "

"Hey, it's okay," Dave says. "Don't worry about it. We'll make something work."

Aaron hands Emily back the phone and listens to her tell Dave she'll be with him in half an hour. When she hangs up, Aaron reaches up and pulls her hand down to his mouth to kiss the palm. "Thank you," he says sincerely.

"Any time," she replies, running her fingers through his hair one last time. He sits up and lets her stand, then tosses one of the sofa pillows to the place where she'd sat and lowers himself back down. "You okay?" she asks.

"I think I'm going to sleep here tonight," he says. "It's pretty comfortable."

"You're still in your clothes," she points out, kneeling down in front of him.

He makes a dismissive motion. He's slept in his clothes often enough before and he's content.

"Okay," she says and leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. She lingers so he shifts a little and then they're kissing, closed-mouth, but more than he's been able to want since Haley died. It's a long, sweet moment, and she's the first to pull away. "I'll activate the alarm when I leave," she promises, and stands.

Aaron closes his eyes and listens to her lock him in for the night.

* * *

"Awkwarder than the average threesome," was how Emily jokingly described their first time.

They had dinner and then whiskey, and then they all knew what was to come next, but none of them were willing to take the step to get them there. Hotch actually thought about thanking Dave and Emily for a lovely meal and leaving, but he'd had just enough of Dave's ridiculously expensive Scotch that he wasn't sure he should drive. And he thought that maybe he drank that little bit extra on purpose.

Emily saved them all, rising gracefully to her feet and crossing the room from Rossi to Hotch. "Don't worry," she murmured. "We only bite if you beg." And then she tilted his chin up and kissed him, her mouth smoky with single malt.

Kissing Emily was far weirder than kissing Dave had been and Hotch wondered how this was supposed to help matters. She was a good kisser, and she tasted good and smelled good and for all that Hotch had thought that they could be good together, maybe, someday, or in another lifetime, his brain was screaming at him, _Emily Prentiss is one of your agents!_ and _She's in a relationship with Dave!_ and _She's not Haley._.

Then Dave said, "You're allowed to touch her, Aaron," and that brought things into a new focus. Somehow, he'd almost forgotten about Dave, who used to rip orgasms out of him on a weekly basis. Dave, who kissed Emily every day and fucked her whenever he wanted, and was willing to share. Dave, whose voice could give Hotch wet dreams and who wanted him to touch Emily.

He settled his hands on Emily's hips, not confident the wisdom of putting them anywhere else. Seconds later, Dave's hands settled over his, big and warm, and Emily made a sound into his mouth. Hotch glanced up and saw Dave pressed up against Emily where she stood. "C'mere," Dave urged Emily, bumping his hips up against her butt again.

Emily lifted her head and straightened up, turning her head to let Dave kiss her. That...that was hot, Hotch thought, his hands tightening on her hips as he watched Dave dip into her mouth. After a long moment, Dave pulled his mouth away and looked at Hotch. "Stand up," he said. "It's your turn."

Hotch did as directed, hands still on Emily's hips, pressing up against her front, and kissing Dave over her head. Dave's beard scratched his face and Emily's breasts were soft and warm against his chest. He could feel the points of her nipples as Dave opened his mouth and used his tongue to reacquaint himself with Aaron's mouth. Hotch was getting hard, pressing into Emily, and he didn't want to forget about her so he slipped his hand out from under Dave's and slid it up her ribcage to cup her breast.

"Oh, God, that's hot," Emily said, and she arched into his touch. He wanted to look, see if she was talking about the way he was touching her or the way he and Dave were kissing, but Dave didn't seem inclined to release him.

Hotch stroked his thumb up the curve of Emily's breast, feeling the edge of her bra through her top and then the peak of her nipple. Dave finally broke the kiss and when Hotch opened his eyes, he saw Dave's mouth was red and his eyes were a little wild. He glanced down at Emily who had one hand tucked behind her - which explained Dave's expression - and the other clenched in her skirt. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted, her lower lip wet. He ducked his head and kissed her again, this time with the passion their earlier kiss lacked.

Dave slipped his hand up the front of Emily's skirt, running a path up Hotch's thigh and brushing against his erection as Dave touched Emily in whatever way that made her buck between them. Hotch could smell the sex in the air, the arousal coming off all of them, and realized that _he wanted this_.

He'd been willing before. Eager, maybe, to be with Dave in a permissive setting. But he hadn't been prepared for how much he wanted to be with both of them, to be a part of them, this thing they had. He lifted his head from Emily's mouth and glanced from her to Dave and back again, not knowing how to articulate his thoughts. The words were there but they weren't anything he could fathom saying aloud.

"Maybe we should go upstairs," Dave said, withdrawing his hand from Emily's skirt and smoothing it down very carefully, very controlled. He put his hand to his mouth and Hotch wondered if he was tasting her.

"That sounds like a very good idea," Emily said, slipping out from between them and backing toward the staircase. Despite Dave's adjustments, her skirt didn't quite lay flat and her nipples were visible through the lightweight shirt she was wearing. Her lipstick was gone, had been since dinner, but her mouth was bright.

Hotch glanced at Dave, who inclined his head in invitation. So he followed her, with Dave bringing up the rear, walked up the stairs and to their bedroom, where the king-sized bed had already been turned down and a box of condoms and a tube of lubricant were sitting on the nightstand. He lifted an eyebrow at Dave. "Confident, were you?" he asked, though Dave was always confident and had every reason to be.

"If you hadn't come up, we would have used them anyway," Emily said, dragging her blouse over her head. Her bra was pretty, black and lacy, and completely failed to keep anything a secret.

Her words were almost hotter than the lingerie - sketching images in Hotch's head of her rolling the condoms on Dave, slicking him up, maybe even coating her own fingers to give Dave something in his ass. "Do you - " the words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying and he shut his mouth. He _never_ spoke without thinking and he blamed Emily's bra utterly for that slip.

"Do we what?" Dave asked, pressing up against Hotch's back and reaching for the knot of his tie. He dragged it loose and then pulled the tail of the tie from Hotch's collar. Hotch could feel Dave's dick, hot and hard against the line of his ass, and his mouth went dry.

Emily was watching them as she slowly undid her skirt. Hotch tried to force the words and only halfway made it, when she let the skirt slide down her legs to reveal black lace panties that were equally impractical. "Do you use it?" he asked finally. "The lube. When it's just the two of you?"

He could feel Dave's chuckle against his back and in his ear. "Sometimes," Dave said, unbuttoning Hotch's shirt. "Sometimes Em likes a little help. Is that what you mean?" It wasn't, but Hotch could imagine that, too. Dave wasn't small, and Hotch had liked plenty of slickness when Dave was fucking him.

"Does she finger you?" Hotch asked, pulling it together. "Does she use it for that?"

Dave shifted, moving from one side of Hotch's head to the other. "Sometimes," he said again. "Sometimes she puts it on a dildo and fucks me."

The idea was dizzying and Hotch gripped Dave's wrists, immobilizing him as he tried to undress Hotch further. He'd almost regrouped when Emily sauntered forward and undid his belt. She leaned past him to kiss Dave and then dropped to her knees, taking his pants with him.

"I want you to do something for me," Dave requested, his voice a sexy rasp in Hotch's ear. Hotch nodded, request unspoken. There are clearly no rules there, in Dave and Emily's bedroom and he felt awkward and inhibited and like an intruder, and he wanted to shed that feeling, be part of the openness that seemed to satisfy them both. "I want you to fuck Emily," Dave murmured. "I'll tell you what she likes. What I want to see."

"I can tell you what she likes, too," Emily commented from her place on the floor. She had wrestled his pants off his feet and managed to get rid of his shoes and socks when Dave had been talking.

Dave huffed a sigh in Hotch's ear. "You have no future in the porn industry," he told her.

"Oh, yeah?" Emily asked, wrapping her hand around Hotch's dick, pushing his boxers back against his hips and taking the head of his dick in her mouth.

Dave chuckled at Hotch's gasp - Emily had _talent_ , porn industry inclinations or not - and rubbed his hand inside Hotch's shirt, over his heart. "Yeah?" he asked. "You fuck her. I'll fuck you after?"

Hotch shuddered, full-body, and nodded. "Deal," he said.

Dave glanced down. "Em? You onboard with this?"

Emily slipped her mouth off Hotch's cock, flicking her tongue against the very tip as she did. "I'm onboard," she said. "But I might be horny again after watching you two go at it."

"I bet you had no idea she's such a pain in the ass in bed," Dave said dryly.

"Literally," Hotch deadpanned, thinking of Dave's comment about the dildo.

Dave snorts and chuckles and tugs Hotch's shirt off his shoulders before stepping away. "You need to finish getting naked," he said. "First things first."

Hotch stripped out of his shirt, undershirt, and boxers as Dave kissed Emily and murmured in her ear. "Where do I start?" Hotch asked when he was naked. His cock was hard, curving against his stomach, and he concentrated on not feeling self-conscious.

Dave stepped back, unbuttoning the cuffs on his shirtsleeves. "Show her off to me," he said. "Start with her tits."

Hotch pulled Emily back against him, letting his cock nestle up against her ass, and swept his hands up to fondle her breasts. "Like this?" he asked. He flicked his fingertips against her nipples and thumbed the straps off her shoulders. He rubbed the lower swells gently, the way Haley liked, thinking maybe Emily would like it too. She seemed to, circling her hips back against him, making breathy little moans, dropping her head back on his shoulder.

Hotch bent his head to her shoulder, tasting her skin, mouthing up to her neck. Emily let her head fall to the side, giving him full access to the curve of her throat, her pulse under his lips, the vibration of her sighs. He shifted his thumbs to her nipples, sweeping over there, making them swollen and hard against the lace of her bra. They were easy to see through the openwork knit and he glanced across the room to make sure Dave was watching and appreciating.

Dave's mouth was open slightly and his chest was rising and falling with his breathing. He'd unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and his erection was obvious in his jeans. He looked aroused, and Hotch became more aroused watching him. When he was younger, he had a pathological desire to please Dave, to get that grudging, "Nice work," or "Good job," and later, to get him to close his eyes and brace himself for the orgasm Aaron was determined to give him. Now, Aaron just wanted to _affect_ him, make him hard, turn him on, make him want something new, make him want Aaron to be part of it. Dave liked what Hotch was doing to Emily, so he upped the ante.

He thumbed the edges of Emily's bra just over her nipples, revealing them, circling them, displaying them to Dave. The straps of her bra had slipped down her arms and when he'd played with her nipples a bit, he pushed the bra the rest of the way down to let her breasts fall naturally, full and ripe against her body. He scooped them up in his palms like he had earlier, but without the tease of her bra this time. This time it was just her breasts in his hands and Dave's eyes, fixed on them like they're the most amazing things he's ever seen.

He showed them off, rubbing and stroking like he had when she still wore her bra, and then decided it was time to move on. Emily rubbed up against him, pushing between his hands and his body, and even if she was showing off for Dave, he could feel the desperation in the twitch of her muscles. He slid his left hand over to cup her right breast, tucking his forearm underneath as support, and stroked, fingers spread, down her side to the lacy waistband of her panties. He passed his hand over them, down the side, then around, the lace damp against his palm. Emily made a delicious sound and he hooked two fingers in the waistband and tugged them down over her hip.

"Feel her first," Dave said, shrugging off his shirt. He had a t-shirt on underneath and Aaron wished he'd shed that as well. His erection was huge in his jeans and Aaron was impressed he wasn't already touching himself. Dave wasn't exactly known for self-restraint.

"Are you ready for that?" Aaron asked Emily quietly - enough for Dave to hear, but no louder. "Are you ready for my fingers on you?"

"Oh, God, Hotch," Emily said, shifting her legs apart. "I've been ready since dinner."

She hadn't been, not really, not with the ghost of tension still riding in her spine. But Aaron could tell she wanted it, wanted it more than she was afraid, so he tucked his hand inside her panties and traced two fingers over her, feeling her, soft and wet and smooth, before he traced her entrance with his fingertips and slid one finger inside.

He dared a glance at Dave when she made a noise and bucked against him. Dave was holding his t-shirt in one hand and rubbing himself over his jeans with the other. He bent his head, buried his mouth in Emily's hair, over her ear, and whispered, "Do we want to see his dick before we get you naked?"

Emily laughed and reached back, her fingers running through Hotch's hair. She reached for Dave with her other hand, saying, "Dave, come here. Stop playing around."

Aaron was surprised to see Dave listen to her, walk forward and kiss her sweetly as she reached for his fly and undid his pants. Aaron drew his finger slowly out of Emily, rubbing up against her clit as he did, and then pushing back in.

"I want to see you, Em," Dave protested against her mouth.

"Me, too," she answered, her tongue tracing his lower lip - Aaron had such a good view - and pulling him close. "But I want to feel you, too."

"I'm right here," he said, and he was, body and voice and eyes and finally hands, cupping Emily's face and then reaching for Aaron, sliding over his shoulders and neck.

Aaron reached out too, his fingers finding Dave's shoulder, his arm. His skin was warm and the muscle still firm. He caught Aaron's hand in his own and kissed it. Aaron brushed his thumb over Dave's mouth and Dave smiled. "I still want to see you fuck Emily," he rumbled.

"I will," Aaron promised. He fucked Emily with his fingers, slowly and deliberately, the back of his hand riding against Dave's erection through Emily's panties.

Emily pulled Dave's free hand to her breast and he murmured, "This could get real messy, real fast."

Silently, Aaron agreed. He could picture them tangled together on the bed, limbs and hands and mouths, no order and no need for it. It didn't seem like a bad thing, not at all.

"I'm going to take your panties off," Dave murmured. "And then I want you both on the bed."

Aaron waited for Emily to answer but she didn't. Not in words. She did tilt her hips forward, pulling Aaron's fingers deeper and offering herself to Dave's hands. Dave cupped his hands around her hips and then drew the lace panties down, revealing Aaron's hand, working her over, as he looked down her body at Dave. He had felt the lace pull against his cock and now he was pressed up against the soft skin and subtle muscles of her ass. Emily stepped out of her panties and Aaron withdrew his fingers carefully, a little regretfully, but it hardly mattered, because Emily was sliding away from both of them and settling herself on the bed.

Aaron rested his hand on Dave's shoulder as he straightened and said, "Is this still what you want?" He brushed the fingers of his other hand, the ones still wet with Emily's juices over Dave's lips, lingering when Dave's tongue darted out to taste.

Dave leaned forward and kissed him, a little rough, a little more like the past than the rest of the night had been. "Yeah," he said. "Treat her good. I'll be right there."

"You two really have to stop talking about me like I'm not here," Emily said from the bed, and Hotch felt something hit his shoulder, the soft foil corner of a condom packet giving its identity away.

She was sitting on the bed, pillows stacked behind her and her legs pressed together and folded demurely in front of her, knees to one side, feet to the other. The sheets were dark, black or navy blue, and she was a creamy contrast, the spaces between her skin and the sheets almost inky.

Aaron turned away from Dave and moved toward her. "Feeling left out?" he asked. "A little neglected?"

"Maybe a little," Emily said, all wide eyes and pouting lip.

He leaned over, hands finding the mattress on either side of her, and kissed the side of her neck, feeling her smooth, warm skin under his lips. Her hands touched him then, touched him the same way she touched Dave, gentle and affectionate. Her fingertips brushed through the hair at his temple and her other hand pressed against the back of his shoulder, urging him closer. He worked his way down to the elegant curve of her collarbone, charting the swells and notches. Her hand pressed down his spine, encouraging him, arousing him, and he imagined her touching Dave like this and felt welcomed. Aaron shifted his weight to one arm, freeing up his other hand to cup her jaw and cheek. Emily's face was more angular than Haley's, and her chin felt sharp against his palm. Aaron lifted his head and studied her face - dark hair, dark eyes, sharp arches of dark eyebrow, pointy nose, turned up a little at the end, and wide, beautiful mouth. Her eyes were wary and reassuring at once, as if he might reject her, rather than the other way around.

"I think you're beautiful," he told her and her smile cracked wide open.

"I think you're stating the obvious," Dave said from the other side of the bed. Aaron glanced over. Dave had undressed the rest of the way and his cock was hard and heavy against his body. Aaron remembered it against his lips, in his hand, brushing up against his ass. It had been a long time but it felt like nothing had changed.

"Let the man speak," Emily said dismissively.

"So Dave doesn't tell you that you're beautiful?" Aaron asked, completely intending to stir up whatever trouble would come of that line.

"I tell her all the Goddamned time," Dave said indignantly.  
Aaron smiled at Emily and Emily smiled back and winked at him - she knew exactly what he was doing. He leaned forward and kissed her. It struck Aaron that his teasing had been fairly presumptive - what if Dave _didn't_ say such things to Emily? - but he knew Dave so well, it seemed utterly safe, and here in this setting, Emily seemed just as safe, just as attuned to his humor - what there was left of it.  
It had always been easy to be with Dave when Aaron felt broken, but now he realized that being with Emily made him feel a little less damaged, a little more like he wasn't completely divorced from the shiny, civilized, gloss on society he used to be part of with Haley.

He settled against Emily, his cock pressing into her lower stomach, feeling her breasts push back against his chest. He braced himself on one hand and stroked her body with the other, slow, meandering caresses, over her shoulder blade, where the small of her back twisted into the dip of her waist, the thin skin over the bone of her hip, the back of her knee. He wanted to learn the shape of her, find the pieces of her that weren't mouth and breasts and pussy, but which were just as important, just as sensitive. The spot behind her knee - when he touched it, her hand tightened on his hip, her fingers digging into the swell of his ass. She was strong and he liked the idea of having tiny fingerprint bruises on his skin. He pushed himself up and away, reaching for the condoms on the table.

As he reached over, pressing his fingertips to one of the foil packets spilling out of the box and pulling it toward him, he glanced back so he'd miss nothing. Dave had Emily's other hand and was kissing her fingertips and darting his tongue against the webbing between her fingers. Her eyes were wide and she seemed unable to decide where to look, which of them deserved her rapt attention.

Aaron used her distraction to sit back on his heels and deal with the condom. He hadn't used one, hadn't needed one, in years, now. It wasn't that he didn't remember how to safely open the packet and roll it on - there was a joke there about riding a bike - but he had thought about asking Dave to put it on. It would have been sexy and he was anxious to have Dave's hands on him again, but in the end, he needed that moment to himself, his own hands and his own cock and the little latex prophylactic that meant he was going to make love to someone not his wife, a woman whose body he didn't know as well as his own. It wasn't frightening - it was Dave and Emily - but he let his hands linger on himself for an extra few seconds. The touch of his own palm was something he knew.

He glanced up and saw that Emily was watching Dave, and Dave was watching him, one arm pinning Emily's leg to the bed as he opened her up with his fingers, circling her clit and dipping into her to bring her juices to the surface. "Em, he's ready for you," Dave whispered and Emily glanced back, big brown eyes going right to Aaron.

Aaron leaned forward, one hand going to the mattress between her head and the nightstand, the other stroking her cheek as he kissed her gently. Then he moved his hand to his cock, glanced at Dave, who nodded and pulled his hand away, then guided himself into Emily.

It was awkward at first - she didn't lift to him like Haley did, and he didn't realize he had to adjust right away, but after a moment he did, and then she shifted, and he was seated in her. Beside them, Dave whispered, "Fuck," under his breath and then added, "You're so fucking gorgeous together."

Aaron didn't want to take his eyes off Emily, but he couldn't help glancing over at Dave, who was tugging on his own dick. He pulled back a little, sliding inside her, and then pushed in again, dragging identical groans from Emily and from Dave.

He wondered how many times Dave had been in this exact position, between Emily's legs, dipping his cock into hot, wet, clench of her pussy. It was blazing hot in an way that felt intensely dirty and at the same time, completely clear. Dave loved Emily, Aaron loved Dave, Dave fucked Emily, so Aaron fucked Emily, and loved her like Dave did.

"Is this how Dave fucks you?" he asked Emily, loud enough for Dave to hear.

"This is how you fuck me," she said, twisting under him.

He leaned down to kiss her again, leaving enough space between their bodies for Dave to watch. She shifted her far leg up, hooking it over his hip, letting him in deeper, and he took advantage of the invitation, thrusting into her again and again. He'd forgotten how much the condom dulled sensation, insulated him against her wetness and her heat, so he thrust faster, harder, and she seemed to like that, her hands running quick and hungry up his back, his neck, into his hair, and to his shoulders and arms.

He was getting close when Aaron felt hands, Dave's hands, on his hips and he paused, deep, all the way in Emily. She gasped when he stopped, starting to draw back when she expected him to withdraw and he didn't. He lifted his head and smiled at her. He hadn't expected to enjoy being in bed with her so much. Just like in the field, they fit without forcing it, subtle cues easily recognized, and he much preferred this, their bodies used for pleasure rather than clearing rooms and pointing guns. He rocked out of her slowly, so slowly, right into Dave's hands, letting them spread over his ass.

"Don't let me distract you," Dave said behind him, but too hoarsely to be as cheeky as he tried to make it sound.

"I think he likes being distracting," Aaron said to Emily - and also to Dave - as he pushed back into Emily and felt Dave's hands shift around the contours of his muscles.

"I couldn't help myself," Dave protested, which was easy enough to believe. "I was watching the muscles in your ass flex as you fucked Emily and I had to touch."

"Maybe you should keep touching?" Emily suggested breathlessly, her body pulling Aaron right back in to her. "He seems to like it."

Aaron did like it, because Dave's hands were closer, easier on him, and he could feel the warmth of Dave's skin, the solidness of his body, his thighs, his dick, his stomach, all close, all wanting to touch Aaron, to fold around him. "We can start this part now," he said, shifting his balance to one arm and tracing Emily's lower lip with his other hand. "I fuck you," he told her softly. "He fucks me. We'll have to go slow. You might not come as fast."

"I might come a lot faster," Emily returned, arching her eyebrow. She propped herself up on her elbows and he felt the shift in her body, felt the way she angled around him.

"Do it," he told Dave. He was rewarded with the press of Dave's lips against his neck and the slide of Dave's chest against his back and he reached past Aaron for the condoms and the lubricant.

Aaron was tense, anticipation riding his shoulders and back. He glanced down at Emily to see if she'd noticed and she grinned up at him. "See," she said, with at tilt of her head. Her hair was mussed from the pillow, almost impossible to see in the dim light of the nightstand lamp against the dark sheets. "It's not that bad, is it?"

Aaron laughed, pleasure bubbling from his chest and pouring forth. Then Dave touched his ass with warm palms and slick, cool fingers, and a different kind of pleasure rushed through him.

Dave teased him for endless seconds, circling Aaron's opening, teasing around the edges and spreading lubricant in his wake. Then, finally, he pushed one finger inside and Aaron thought maybe he could feel it in his throat. He bit his lip and Emily saw and soothed it with her fingertips.

"You're tight, Aaron," Dave husked from behind him. He rocked his finger in and out of Aaron, loosening him up and Aaron responded by rocking in and out of Emily. "You haven't let yourself have this in a long time."

 _Not since you_ , Aaron wanted to say, but didn't. It was too intimate, too personal with all three of them there, and he knew how ridiculous that sounded. Who made rules for this? Where did they draw the lines?

"I'm going to put two fingers in you now," Dave said, voice low. "Stretch you out a little."

Aaron nodded and blinked. Emily was frowning beneath him, lifting one hand to stroke his forehead. He knew his face was telegraphing the tension of taking Dave, and he tried to smile at her. He eased himself onto one forearm for balance and reached down to rub her clit with the pad of his index finger.

Her breath caught up in a helpless laugh and she pressed her teeth into her own bottom lip.

Aaron could feel Dave's fingers in him, pushing him from too-tight to just-right but he concentrated on Emily, gave her little thrusts and watched her face to see what she liked, how best to touch her.

It didn't take long to make her come, and no wonder. Aaron's whole body was hot and tingling with the slide of Dave and Emily's skin against it. Emily came, back arched, in a series of throaty moans, Aaron's name, Dave's name, other words incoherent against Aaron's mouth as he kissed her. She opened her eyes, lazy and satisfied and smiled at him as she collapsed against the pillows.

Dave had two fingers in Aaron and he had paused and watched when Emily had her orgasm, but started moving when she relaxed, steady, twisting thrusts into Aaron's ass, opening him up, making him loose. "God, Dave," Aaron gasped out when he paused.

"More?" Dave asked, and scissored his fingers, offering the brush of a third.

"No," Aaron said, reckless and determined. "I'm ready."

"Aaron," Dave said, his voice weighted by the darkness of the room and the lust in the air. "I can open you up more."

"Do it now," Aaron said. "Please."

Emily wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. Her skin was hot and damp, feverish, and Aaron was sure his was, too. He breathed out slowly, too close to avoid her mouth, but she just leaned up and caught his lower lip between her teeth and teased it gently.

Dave pushed in, then, and Aaron lost all track of Emily and - everything. The bed, the clock on the nightstand, the sheets beneath him, it all vanished in the sweet, exhilarating push of Dave's cock in his ass.

It hurt, a not-insignificant amount, but it was a voluntary pain, and a familiar one. Dave had done this long ago and it had meant Aaron was appreciated, cared about, even protected. The lube that had seemed too thick, too slippery felt almost insufficient and Dave's length stretched him, spreading it thin.

Emily squeezed around his cock and things started to come back - the bed under his knees, the dimmed golden light, Emily's face when Aaron opened his eyes, her hand on his cheek. "Are you okay?" she breathed into his ear. "I know he's big." Her hand slipped to the back of his neck and stroked the sensitive hairs there. "Just relax. Let him in. You should see his face right now."

Aaron tried to do as she said, relaxing around Dave, feeling the supple strength of Emily all around him. Dave leaned down, shifting a little inside him, and brushed his beard against Aaron's shoulder. "Fuck her," Dave whispered in his other ear. "Make us all feel good." His big, hot hand rubbed over the crease of Aaron's thigh and spread over his lower stomach. Arousal shot through Aaron's blood, chasing away the sharpest edge of the pain. He pushed forward, into Emily, and she let out a soft grunt as he rocked her into the mattress. He drew back, slipping out of her by quarter-inches, but filling himself with Dave's dick. Forward again, he angled down a little to push the back of Dave's hand against Emily. She cried out and twisted under him and Aaron pulled back again. He could feel Dave's hand, then Emily's tangling with it and he did his part, fucking himself between them as their fingers tangled together and slid over him, over his balls, over Emily's clit, anywhere available to touch, and Aaron closed his eyes and let the strong push/pull of their bodies guide him. They were both touching him, touching each other, just as he'd imagined, all three of them tangled together on the bed with no rules and nothing to fear.

Too soon, the familiar heat gathered at the base of his spine, the trembling flush hitting his stomach, his hips, his thighs. He didn't want it to be over yet, but he'd reached saturation and managed to gasp out, "I'm close - I need - "

"Yeah, come on, let it go," Dave urged, one hand spreading over Aaron's hip as Dave gave a few sharp, targeted thrusts, riding right over Aaron's prostate and sending sparks flying behind his eyelids.

"I have you," Emily whispered and Aaron dropped his head to her shoulder, closing his eyes as he came in a dizzying crash of pleasure.

Dave was still in him when the headrush cleared and Aaron opened his eyes. But his body was relaxed around Dave and heavy over Emily, and he could set his knees wider, opening himself up to Dave as he lifted his head and kissed Emily.

"Fuck, Hotch - Aaron," Dave muttered against his shoulder, lips pressing hot kisses over Aaron's shoulder blades and down his spine. "God, I have to - Fuck."

Emily turned her mouth from Aaron's, letting his mouth slide to her cheek. "Fuck him," she told Dave, sliding her arms around Aaron's shoulders and holding him down against her. "Finish up. I've got him."

They did have him, both of them. Dave's hands curled possessively around his hips, steadying him as Dave pounded into him, less careful than he'd been, less measured, and it was glorious to pant damp, satisfied breaths into Emily's shoulder and feel Dave come apart around and inside him. He groaned deeply and Aaron felt him come, the warmth and the easing of pressure, even through the condom.

For a moment, Dave slumped heavily against him and Aaron wasn't even sure how Emily could _breathe_ , trapped under them both, but then Dave pulled out - slowly, but that didn't keep it from hurting - and rolled off, stripping the condom off. Aaron levered himself off Emily, hearing her little sigh of protest, and pulled out, making sure to grip the base of the condom. It took him a moment to deal with it, but when he came back to the bed, Emily reached out and linked her fingers around his wrist.

"That was so hot," she said, kissing his cheek as he slid into the bed next to her. "Thank you."

"She warned us," Dave told him, glancing up, as he slid two fingers between Emily's legs. She shivered between them and vocalized her approval. Dave raised an eyebrow and Aaron smiled and slid his own fingers in Emily, next to Dave's. After that, it took her about thirty seconds to come. She sprawled over them both in protest of the idea that anybody would move, but she was the first one to drift off to sleep. The last thing Aaron remembered was Dave's hand on his hip and the patient conviction that this was going to happen again.

* * *

They spend the weekend chasing an arsonist in Madison and it's after nine on Tuesday night when the plane touches down. Hotch calls Jessica when they get back to the BAU but she has Jack at her apartment and he's already gone to bed. She gets him up - it's not hard these days - so he can say good night to his dad, but even from across the room, Rossi can tell she's lecturing Hotch to get some rest.

"You want to drop by my place?" he asks when Hotch has hung up and dismissed the team, giving them all the next day off. "We can order some Chinese."

"Yeah," Hotch agrees. "Order me some beef and broccoli. I want to stop off and change."

Emily catches up with Dave in the elevator. "Your place?" she asks.

Dave nods. "Hotch is coming by," he says, in as casual a tone as he can manage.

Emily lifts an eyebrow at him and says, "Oh, yeah?"

Dave shrugs. "We're ordering Chinese," he says. "That's all I know for now."

"Oh," she says. "Okay. Order me some beef and broccoli."

He smiles at her. "I love you," he says.

She shoots him a sideways glance. "What gotten into you, today?" she asks, teasing, but a little mystified.

"Nothing," he says, and knows she doesn't believe him.

He and Emily are unpacking the bags when Hotch arrives, wearing a half-zip pullover made of something nubby and soft and jeans. Dave can tell immediately that Emily wants to go over and press her cheek against Hotch's sweater but she tosses him an eggroll instead and tells him to pour the wine. Dave's more interested in the jeans, and the curve of Aaron's ass under them, but he knows not to expect too much. They got him this far, and that's one for the win column.

They put on a hockey game and Emily sits on the floor, so Hotch, the showoff, does the same. Dave grumbles and complains that he's old, but he joins them, leaning against the rise of the couch. It doesn't take long to forget the game - the food is good but the company's better.

Emily's drinking more than she usually does - she's usually so careful with wine, with any kind of alcohol, but she's happy and she trusts Dave and she trusts Hotch, and her smile lights up the room. Dave smiles at her when he refills her glass for the second time. He wants to pull her in, put his arm around her, but she's still eating, battling chopsticks with Hotch as they hit the bottom of the little takeout box. She takes the last broccoli, he gets the beef, and Dave doles out the fortune cookies.

"Versatility is one of your best qualities," Emily reads from the tiny strip of paper.

"In bed," Hotch and Dave echo, and they all laugh.

Hotch reaches for Emily and Dave finds himself holding his breath. "C'mere," Hotch says, sliding his hands over Emily's back, brushing her hair over her far shoulder. She lifts her eyes to Dave and he smiles slightly at her. She knows to be cautious, but this is good. This is progress. "If you take your sweater off," Hotch murmurs, "I'll give you a backrub."

Emily bites her lip and reaches for the hem of her sweater. Dave enjoys watching her draw it up her body and over her head before shrugging out of the sleeves. She's wearing a camisole underneath and it clings to her breasts, her stomach, and rides up the curve of her waist. Dave takes a deep drink of wine and opens his legs a little more. He's comfortably hard, aroused by the scene before him. Hotch and Emily are both incredibly pretty and seeing them together is like watching porn made just for him. Hotch presses Emily down to the floor, lets her curl her arms under her head, and then he straddles her ass and presses strong hands around her shoulders, across her back, and down her sides. He runs his thumbs down either side of her spine to the small of her back, and glances up at Dave.

Aaron's half-smile is rueful and self-deprecating and Dave knows what that means. He nods his understanding and Aaron turns his attention back to Emily. He sweeps his hands up to her shoulders again, searching out the knots and stiffness, pressing out the tension, until they both hear Emily groan in relief. Hotch brushes her hair away from her neck again and leans down to press his lips against her top vertebrae. "What else can I do for you?" he asks. "How can I make you feel good?"

Emily pushes herself up on her elbows and lifts her head. Dave's briefly mesmerized by her breasts, which are threatening to spill out of the camisole, and then remembers that he'd never really put a name to Hotch's physical reluctance. He doesn't want her to ask too much.

"She's wearing way too many clothes," he suggests. The look Emily gives him is heated and she glances down at her own chest and grins. She knows exactly what it's doing to him.

"Agreed," Hotch says and shifts back, edging Emily's legs apart with one knee. She opens easily for him and he kneels in the triangle of floor, urging her up so he can tug open the button and fly of her jeans. He drags them off her hips, showing Dave the panties she's wearing underneath. Emily eases back down to the floor, sticking her tongue out playfully at Dave as she does, and lets Hotch drag her jeans over her ass, down her thighs, and off her calves and feet.

Dave finishes his wine and sets the glass aside. His jeans are getting uncomfortable and he pops the button and lowers the fly as Hotch rolls the camisole up Emily's sides and slides the built-in bra over her breasts. He catches her nipples briefly as he works it off, slides it over her head, and Dave pulls himself out of his boxers, strokes himself as he watches them.

"I think she might be wet," he suggests roughly. Emily's watching him jerk off, eyes big and mouth open - he wants to slide his dick right inside it.

Hotch thumbs her panties aside - she opens her legs wider for him - and touches her. Dave can't see exactly what he's doing, his angle's wrong, but guessing is almost as arousing as seeing for himself. "Yeah," Hotch confirms, his eyebrows lifting. "She's wet." He does something that makes Emily shift against the floor, duck her head and close her eyes, and then he says, "I think she wants to be fucked."

He inclines his head to Dave, deferring, and sits back on his heels, holding up his hand. The two fingers he keeps apart from the others are shiny, slick, covered with evidence of Emily's arousal.

"Yeah?" Dave asks, getting to his feet and crossing the room. He kneels down next to Emily, takes Hotch's hand and slides those two fingers into his mouth. They taste like Emily, hot and rich and musky, and like Hotch, warm skin and wood and a little like the soy sauce they'd eaten earlier. He draws off slowly and kisses Hotch, lightly, but open-mouthed so he can share everything.

Emily has shifted between them, slipped around to her back, sitting up. She's bracing herself on her hands and watching them kiss. Dave looks down at her. "You want be fucked?" he asks her. "Hotch thinks you might want to be fucked."

Emily gives him a look that says, _I can't believe you're asking that question with a straight face_ , and drags him down by his shirt collar to kiss her, too.

"I think it's time to go upstairs," he says when she releases him, because he is _not_ fucking her on the living room floor, not if he wants to move tomorrow. He reaches blindly for Hotch, catching his forearm. "Join us," he requests, turning to look at Hotch. He knows it could be awkward, that it might be easier for Hotch to decline, spend the night on the couch. But he knows Emily wants Hotch upstairs with them, and so does he. He wants the weight of Hotch's body on the bed, the even sounds of his breath in the air, his hands on Dave's body.

"All right," Aaron agrees, and there's longing in his eyes. Dave's determined not to let him slip away.

Actually getting upstairs is an exercise in awkwardness and then Emily catches the giggles, which both helps and hinders. Inside the bedroom finally, Dave yanks down the covers on the king-sized bed and drags his shirts and jeans off.

Emily has finally managed to cuddle up to Hotch's sweater, saying, "God, I love this sweater, but Hotch, you have to take it off. And this, too," she adds, pushing his t-shirt up his stomach. Aaron has a thick happy trail that starts at his navel and Dave loves to watch it disappear into low-slung jeans. It would help if Aaron _wore_ low-slung jeans but these aren't bad, offering a peek at the very top of his hipbones.

Dave pulls Emily away, letting Hotch finish undressing himself, and cups his hands over her breasts. His cock pushes against her ass, teasing through her thin - so thin, god, he could fuck her right through them - cotton panties. "We need to get you out of these," he murmurs, plucking at them ineffectually. He presses a palm down, over her stomach, over her panties and fuck yeah, Hotch had been right. She was wet and she definitely wanted to be fucked.

"Aaron," he says. "Can you put the condom on me while Emily's taking her panties off?"

Aaron nods in answer and goes to the nightstand drawer as Emily turns out of Dave's embrace and nudges her panties down her hips in a show. Dave watches her push them off the swell of her hips and reveal herself to him. Aaron's watching, too, sideways, as he unwraps the condom. He's taller than Dave by a couple of inches, just enough that when he wraps his arms around Dave from behind, he can rest his chin on Dave's shoulder. He doesn't quite have the reach to roll on the condom comfortably, but Dave helps and then Aaron pumps him slowly, getting him full and slick for Emily.

Dave doesn't want to tell him to stop, not until he knows what he can tell Aaron to do. Aaron's not much of a voyeur - he wants to do, not watch. But then Aaron slips his hand all the way to the head of Dave's cock and off, and he gets on the bed and says, "Emily, come here."

She gets on the bed and lets him press up behind her, then roll them both so he's on his back and she's on top of him. He parts her legs and reaches down and rubs her, opening her up for Dave. She reaches back with one hand, pressing it to the side of his face, and reaches for Dave with the other. He goes to them, kneels between their legs, and sinks his cock deep into Emily.

Aaron's holding her tight, one hand pressed beneath her breasts, the other bracing her hip, his legs spreading hers. It lets Dave fuck her hard, slow but deliciously hard, driving in deep with every stroke. Emily gasps with every thrust, silently at first, then with increasingly desperate moans. Dave can hear Aaron soothing her, murmuring nonsense against her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear, stroking a calming hand down her side. He plunges into her harder, faster, his rhythm building with his own need.

Emily clenches around him so tightly he sees white spots and her desperate, panting cries crescendo into an unmistakable orgasm. Dave's orgasm crashes over him, driving him forward against her with no restraint. She cries out again, her mouth pressing against his, and then they're both gasping. Emily's touching his face with clumsy fingertips.

It takes a minute or two for Dave to take stock of the situation. He's still inside Emily, braced over her and Hotch. Her face is turned to the side, eyes closed in blissful exhaustion, and Hotch is stroking her hair. Her face is wet, Dave realizes belatedly, she was crying. Not a lot, not more than a few tears from each eye, but he immediately feels guilty. "Emily?" he asks. "Did I hurt you?" He touches his thumb to one of the damp trails and realizes someone's already wiped it away.

"No," Emily said, opening her eyes and reaching to run her fingers into his hair. "You were perfect." She tugs him forward for a kiss, and then she lifts her head to Hotch for another.

Dave worries for a minute that she's brushing it away, pretending whatever he did wasn't painful, but then he shifts to kiss Hotch, too, tastes Emily's tears on his lips and hears Emily laugh and then he knows that she's just happy. A little emotional in a way she never is when they're not in bed, but here, in the arms of the two men she loves best in the world, she let go a little. Dave kisses Emily one last time and settles in next to them.

It was, maybe, a little step closer to normal.

* * *

Dave spent a lot of time thinking about Zoe Hawkes when they got home from Cleveland. He was distant, tucked inside his own mind for far too long. He stayed out of the office, reluctant to see his own work displayed so prominently. As heartening as it had been to learn that his books had brought JJ to the BAU, it didn't change the fact Zoe Hawkes was dead and it was because she and Eric Ryan Olson had both been fans.

Emily didn't say much, but she touched him whenever he was within reach. Her hand against his back when they were in the kitchen, his shoulder or neck when he was reading, her head resting on his leg as they relaxed on the couch, her foot against his ankle under the table at dinner.

She didn't watch him. But Hotch did. Steady, brown eyes on him every time he glanced up, and between them, he felt sheltered, guarded, but also exposed and guilty. He'd done the math. He'd been on his cell phone to them when Zoe had died. He'd been jerking off, listening to Emily describe how Aaron was eating her out as Eric Olson wrapped Zoe's scarf around her neck and choked the life out of her.

His temper flared whenever he thought of it. Anger at himself, shame at his own self-absorption, guilt that he'd been too eager to get back to his hotel room and call home to take ten minutes and talk to Zoe. David Rossi didn't often doubt himself, almost never gave a second thought to the things other people said about him, but this time he was so close to the truth, his nose rubbed in the fact that if he'd been a nicer person, Zoe Hawkes might still be alive.

He had cancelled two book signing events and a reading and was sending his publisher straight to voicemail when he got tired of making the house quiet and moody and packed up his rifle and hunting gear and took off for Little Creek. Maybe Emily and Aaron could have some fun while he was gone. He went to Gabby’s to pick up Mudgie, and ended up on her couch with a cup of tea, spilling his guts.

“You only do this when you want to sulk in a duck blind,” she said, handing him a cup of something that still had leaves and roots floating in it and didn’t even have caffeine. “Could you maybe try not to be so obvious?”

“I just came to get my dog,” Dave retorted, taking one of those vile little oat-sesame-dried cranberry cookies out of the pottery bowl and remembering to bite it with his incisors instead of straight on.

"You haven't come to get the dog in over a year," Gabby accused, sitting lotus-style on the couch next to him. He'd appreciated her bendiness, he thought grudgingly, his eyes sketching over her long legs, but Emily believed in pizza and Hotch's body was firm and heavy and Dave never worried he was going to break either of them. "Which means you've been happy. Until now. What are you doing here?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're crazy?" he asked. "I'm gonna shoot some damn ducks."

"You used to tell me all the time, Mr. Expert," Gabby replied. "Fortunately, we got divorced."

Dave huffed and sipped at his hot-water-and-twig mixture. "I was in Cleveland last week for a book promotion," he said. "And I blew off a girl."

"That's a first," Gabby said.

"A _fan_ ," Dave clarified. "She was nineteen." Gabby just tilted her head as if Zoe couldn't have been Dave's - yeah, he wasn't going there. The point was, he had nieces older than her. "Anyway, I blew her off to go back to my hotel and call - call home - and she went to a crime scene and...." He frowned into his tea.

"And what?" Gabby asked. She had always been surprisingly straightforward for a crazy hippie chick.

"And the unsub strangled her with her own scarf."

Gabby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Wow," she said. "I'm sorry, Dave."

"I was on the phone with Emily," he said, thinking a silent apology in Hotch's direction. Gabby knew Hotch, knew him as Dave's friend, and he didn't want to have to explain differently, not today. "Maybe if I'd stayed, talked to her, maybe she wouldn't have gone to that place, met that guy."

"Yeah, she was nineteen," Gabby said. "If she wanted to go to a crime scene, some old dude wasn't going to stop her, no matter how many freaky books he wrote." She reached out and linked her fingers around Dave's wrist. "Dave, it's not your fault. There's nothing wrong with going back to your hotel to call your girlfriend. Hell, if you'd gone back to the hotel and called me once in a while, maybe we wouldn't have broken up."

"We would have," Dave assured her, because she was making him choke up and they weren't like that - never had been. "Because you kept making cookies like these, and I am not actually a bird."

"You knew I made those cookies when you married me," Gabby told him, squeezing his wrist and letting go.

When he got home, he found Aaron up to his wrist in a chicken’s ass and Emily corralling bread cubes into an overflowing bowl and getting crumbs all over the kitchen floor.

"How did the duck hunting go?" Emily asked, getting out another bowl and shifting some of the bread into it.

"No harm, no fowl," Dave said mildy and her head shot up.

"Did you just make a joke, Agent Rossi?" she asked, brushing off her hands and making her way around the table. She was smiling and Dave reached out to wrap one arm around her. He kissed her near the corner of her mouth, brushing his beard against her cheek. He realized, guiltily, that in all the time she'd been touching him, he hadn't really touched her back. It felt good to do it again.  

"Mm, a bad one," he admitted, pressing a second kiss to her temple. "You two are making dinner? Stuffing a chicken?"

"That's our joke," Aaron said dryly, shaking his hand free of of the chicken. He turned on the faucet with his elbow and squirted anti-bacterial soap into his palm. "I hope your pizza place is still on speed dial."

"Always," Dave said, slipping away from Emily and crossing the kitchen to where Aaron had finished lathering and rinsing and was drying his hands on a paper towel. He hooked an arm around Aaron's shoulders and kissed him on the side of the face as well - not as sweetly or as tenderly as Emily, but with no less affection.

Aaron smiled at him - no more than a softening of the tight line of his mouth, but for Aaron it was a smile - and cuffed him around the neck. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Dave said. "I had a little come to Jesus with Gabby." Aaron's thumb smoothed down Dave's neck, making him shiver a little. From the corner of his eye, he could see Emily's head tilt as she tried - attempting subtlety and failing - to see and hear what was going on as she scooped chopped onions and celery into her stuffing mix. "Gabby," he said, a little louder so Emily could hear. "Fed me birdseed and told me Zoe wasn't my fault." His voice didn't break over her name and that was a victory.

"We can feed you a bird and tell you the same thing," Aaron offered, dropping his hand but letting it brush over Dave's shoulder, arm, and waist on the way down.

"We can flip you the bird and tell you the same thing, too," Emily added, slipping between them and shoving a bowl of stuffing mix into Aaron's hands. "Here, the chicken is your territory."

"I just washed my hands," Aaron protested.

"But you've already had your hand up there once," Emily said reasonably.

Dave glanced at Aaron. He knew how these things went. Aaron's ability to resist coercion was legendary when it came to unsubs, bureaucracy, and Jack's attempts to avoid bedtime. But Emily could con him into almost any chore. Privately, Dave thought she was taking advantage of his guilt for never being home to help Haley out around the house, but he didn't know that she even realized she was doing it. Also, it was funny.

"All right, give me the stuffing," Aaron conceded, right on schedule. He took the bowl back from Emily and she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

"You want something to drink?" Emily asked Dave as Aaron wrestled the chicken open and started shoving handfuls of bread and vegetables inside.

"Are we having wine with dinner?" Dave asked, assuming they were.

"We're having wine before dinner," Emily said. "Hotch is going to need it when he's done feeling up the chicken."

Dave frowned exaggeratedly at her and leaned forward to put his arms around her waist. "Are you sure you haven't started on that part already?"  
"The wine or the feeling up?" she asked, arching an eyebrow and pressing close to him.

"Either," he said kissing the side of her face and snugging her in tightly. Her hair fell against his far cheek and he breathed in the scent of it as they watched Aaron deposit the chicken on a roasting pan and tuck it into the oven.

Emily's hand squeezed against his own and he let her go reluctantly so she could get out three long-stemmed wine glasses and the corkscrew.

He watched, feeling distanced, as Hotch took the corkscrew and expertly released the cork from the bottle, as Emily tilted the bottle, resting the neck against the top rims of the glasses for balance as the wine splashes into the bowl.  
"What do you want to drink to?" Emily asked, in-focus and apposite again, handing him a glass and shifting around to make sure Aaron was holding his. "A toast for Zoe?"

Dave glanced down at the glassy surface of the wine and thought of the picture of Brett Roberts in his wallet. Taken by a neighbor. Brought home alive. Graduating college next month. He'd shown that picture to JJ when she was just a few years older than Zoe. "Do you remember," he asked Emily and Aaron, "being that young? Wanting so much, believing, that we could put criminals behind bars, where they couldn't hurt anyone else?"

There was an awkward silence in the kitchen and then Aaron said, "I do. And you were there."

"I do, too," Emily said. "You weren't there, then. But your books were."

Dave lifted his eyes slowly and then his glass. He's lucky to have them, he thought. As friends, as confidantes, as well as lovers. Emily's chin was set high and firm, and Aaron's eyes were soft with compassion.

"To Zoe," Aaron said, because Dave was too choked up.

"To Zoe," he repeated, his voice shored up by Emily's, and brought the glass to his lips.

That was something worth drinking to.

* * *

Emily's hot when she wakes up, pressed close on either side. Dave's hard-on rubs against her lower stomach, but Hotch is hard behind her, too, and they're so close, she realizes, because they're kissing. She gets wet almost instantly and she's sure Dave feels it since her leg is tangled across his and she's pressing up against his thigh. He moves a hand to her hip, thumbing the hem of her shirt - his shirt, really - up so he can slide up her side to her breast, all without missing a beat of the wet, sloppy kiss he and Hotch are sharing.

Dave's lower lip drags across Aaron's chin and Emily's _fascinated_ and so, so aroused. Hotch, who must carry a razor in his suit jacket along with his two guns, baton, extending mirror, and tiny Maglight, has finally succumbed to a shadow of stubble and Emily leans up to press her mouth against the underside of his chin. He moans so quietly it would be lost if there was any noise in the sun-warmed room, and Emily feels the sound vibrate in his skin. He wraps his arm around her from behind, his forearm pressing over her hip, and trails his fingers between her legs.  
Emily loves this, twisting between them, one of them everywhere she touches. They haven't had much time together and the last two times, Hotch had been reluctant. The emotional drain of the past several months had taken a toll on him. The first time they'd been together, he'd just held her as Dave fucked her, his cock soft against the back of her thigh. The second time, he'd let Dave fuck him, had gone down on her, and he'd been hard, but he hadn't come. She hopes this time will be different.

He strokes her open, fingers dipping deeper and deeper inside. Emily opens her legs, arching back against him, and she can hear Dave panting against Hotch's mouth.

Dave's cock is still pushing against her and Hotch slides out of her long enough to run his fingers up its length and guide him down against Emily's pussy. She's swollen and sensitive and Hotch guides him inside her easily. "It's okay," he whispers as he rests the head of Dave's cock against her. "I know you fuck without them when I'm not here." Emily gasps as Dave fills her and glances down, watching their bodies join and Hotch's hand stroking against them both.

Above her head, Dave groans and he pushes up inside her. She looks up and he's watching her, his eyes dark. He rocks his hips deliberately, pulsing inside her and it's good, it's so good, but she wants to draw it out a little. Apparently Dave feels the same way. "Fuck," he breathes. "You're incredible," he says. "But you know what I really want right now?"

Emily feels a twinge of anticipation, a rush of adrenaline as she whispers, "What?" and folds her hand over the fingers Hotch is stroking over her clit.

"I want you to peg me," Dave says, all his attention on her now. "We haven't done that in a long time and I really - fuck, Em," he says, as she tightens her muscles around him. "I really want it."

"Yeah, okay," she says, because she wants it too. Wants to open him up and feel him bend to her. Slide the dildo inside him and take him apart. The case hit them all hard - she wants control, he wants to give it up. It's going to be so good and she hopes Hotch thinks so, too. "Is that okay?" she asks him, turning her head to her shoulder. "Do you want to watch me fuck him?"

Hotch exhales against her shoulder, his breath ruffling her hair and warming her cheek. "I've wanted to see it since the first night," he murmurs, kissing her shoulder and scraping the skin gently with his teeth. "I've thought about it. I - " He doesn't say anything else, but Emily feels him against her back and she knows he wants this as badly as they do, wants to watch, wants to be a part of it.

"Okay," she says, rolling away from Hotch, over Dave, and sliding off him. She feels cold and empty when he slips out, but she knows that's temporary. The dildo and harness are in the lower nightstand drawer and as she's getting ready, Hotch bends over and takes Dave's dick in his mouth. Dave groans and cups the back of Hotch's head. Emily smiles, knowing Hotch can taste her on Dave's cock and knowing that Dave really isn't going to last too long if they keep this up, keep taking turns with him. "Turn over," she says when she's ready, and grins as she watches Hotch roll to his back and drag Dave over him.

Dave's still fucking Hotch's mouth when she slides her fingers into Dave's ass. He rasps her name and she's glad he's still thinking about her, that Hotch hasn't blown his mind entirely. Dave hasn't been fucked lately either - she hasn't done this since before Hotch, and Hotch hasn't done it in...before Foyet. So she uses three fingers and a lot of lube and she works him thoroughly, until he's pushing back against her and growling incomprehensible instructions that amount to order for her to fuck him.

"What the fuck...?" she hears him say and Hotch sits up next to him.

"I want to watch," Hotch says matter-of-factly, and Emily laughs as she pushes in. "Good God, Dave," he says, working his own cock when Emily has the whole thing settled inside Dave and is bracing to start a rhythm. "She looks amazing, fucking you like this."

Emily shivers and spreads her hands wide over Dave's hips, drawing out and pushing straight back in, short shallow strokes to start. "Maybe he should suck you," she suggests to Hotch. She wishes, a little, that the dildo was real, that she could feel Dave from the inside out, that she could know what she was doing to him. But the tremors in his hips and thighs are telling her a pretty good tale, and the ridges at the base of the dildo are teasing gently at her clit.

"I think he's a little distracted for that," Hotch says, though he does fall back on one elbow and pulls Dave's mouth to his own.

The kiss is just as hot and sloppy as the one Emily had woken up to and she realizes after a moment that she's slipped into their rhythm. Her cunt aches with the sense-memory of Dave inside her earlier and she pushes deep, deliberately, trying to make him feel as filled and stretched as she had. Dave rewards her with a rough cry and he bites Hotch's lip. Emily feels hot, sticky between her legs, and she wants to reach down, slide her fingers inside herself, but she knows how awkward that's going to be. So she reaches for Dave instead, stroking her fingers into the hair low on his stomach and wrapping her hand around his cock. It's not as easy to fuck Dave like this, she has to work her hips harder, which just makes her hotter and more turned on.

Hotch opens his eyes and _looks_ at her, and she shivers. His eyes are dark and intense and so _hungry_. She's sure she's seen him like this before, but she's not entirely sure she could name a time and place. He reaches out and folds his hand over hers, helping her jerk Dave off.

"Fuck," Dave gasps. "You two - "

Hotch pushes Dave up, back, almost into Emily's lap, so that he's doing as much of the work as she is. Hotch braces his shoulder against Dave's chest and reaches for Emily, drags her up close against Dave's back, and kisses her, fucking her mouth with his tongue, and keeps their hands twisting and jerking on Dave's cock.

Dave's groaning deep in his chest - she can feel the vibrations where her breasts are pressed against his shoulders - and a few seconds later, she feels his cock jerk and he's coming all over her hand and Hotch's. She sighs in relief, slowing her thrusts, feeling like she maybe came a little herself when Dave did. He pulls off the dildo a little and she pulls out the rest of the way, and then Hotch is dragging her over him, his hands deft on the buckles and straps of the harness.

Emily braces herself on his shoulders and watches him, watches his cock, hard and flushed between them. She's still smiling, she realizes, she's even laughing a little, and Hotch is pulling the whole thing away from her body. "God you looked hot in that," he says, casting it aside. "I want - fuck, Dave, I need - where are the condoms?"

"It's okay," Emily says, almost before she realizes it. She touches Hotch's mouth with her fingers and reaches down to hold his cock. "It's okay," she says again, because it is, and she sinks down over him, filling herself with his cock.

"Oh, fuck," Hotch grits out, lifting his hips, just about lifting her off the bed. "God, Emily, yes." His hands grip her hips firmly, pulling her down on him as he fucked up into her. He's not normally so vocal and Emily likes it. She leans down, balancing on his shoulders again, pressing her aching breasts against his chest. It's actually hairier than Dave's and she loves the way it teases her nipples. His collarbone's damp with sweat but she kisses him there anyway, again and again.

"Tell me again," she whispers. "Tell me how much you liked it - liked seeing me fuck Dave."

Hotch bites his lower lip and pushes them both over next to Dave until Emily feels her back hit the bed. He's heavy over her and the base of his cock is rubbing right over her clit and he starts fucking her in earnest, deep, _thorough_ strokes that turn her inside out and drag her up to the edge. Dave's fingers push her bangs away from her eyes and he kisses her on the mouth.

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen," Hotch says low in her ear as Dave kisses her. "The way you took Dave like that, the way he went down on his hands and knees for you and you had him hot and begging for it." Hotch's body is telling her how hot he found it, too, slamming up into her, his hips pushing into the soft curve of her thighs. Emily folds her legs across his back, pulling him in tighter and Dave strokes his hand into the space between them, over Emily's stomach to tease her clit.

"He's so hot for you," Dave mutters against her mouth between kisses. "He's so _hard_ for you. Look how crazy you made him." Emily whines against his mouth, bucking up to get more from them. She's trembling, clenching around Hotch's dick, pushing up to fill herself completely with him, to let her feel every last thrust and kiss and stroke before she crashes.

It comes up all at once, shaking and dizzying and overwhelming. She contracts around Hotch, so hard, not tightly enough - she feels like her body's trying to push him _out_ just so it can fold into itself more, protect itself against the intrusion, but it's too late and all she can do is shudder around him. Dave's there, Hotch is there, and they're both touching her, both comforting her, but she can't seem to stop, can't seem to catch her breath. So she clings to them both, begging for both of them. Finally, it eases and her vision is hazy. She feels lightheaded and Dave is kissing her forehead, but Hotch, Hotch has his face buried in her neck and is groaning and he's going to come soon, she can feel it in the tension of his arms, his back, his thrusts.

She tugs him closer and pushes her hips up toward him, and presses her mouth to temple. He cries out jaggedly and she feels him shudder and the hot rush inside her. Emily loosens her legs around him, letting him fall heavily into the cradle of her hips and knees, sliding the side of her foot down the inside of his leg. She runs both hands down his back, feels his shoulders heave, and decides she likes his weight on her. Dave stretches out next to them, bending his head to kiss Emily's shoulder and reaches out to run his hand through Hotch's hair. Emily lifts her hand from Hotch's back and trails her fingers over Dave's forearm. It's the only place she can touch easily and she needs that connection, his skin under hers. He kisses her knuckles and stretches an arm over her head, settling in an arch around Emily and Hotch. Hotch moves to push up, and Emily presses her hand on his back.

"Stay," she murmurs. And he does.

* * *

Emily didn't know why she'd gone to Hotch instead of Dave the night John Cooley had told her of Matthew's death. Maybe the answer was easy - maybe the case was there, at the BAU with Hotch. The research, the resources, the answers maybe, were there, with Hotch's quiet and respectfully distant compassion.

But it wasn't all easy. Hotch was safe, non-judgmental. He wasn't as religious as Dave - she didn't even know what religion he was. Something Protestant, something he only acknowledged at major life events and maybe holidays. Not like Dave, who was far too comfortable with the Catholic church to keep her from fearing the worst. She'd misjudged him.

Dave had backed her, pushed her, and believed in her, all the way through, and Hotch had kept them grounded, covered their asses. They were both at her apartment when she let herself in the front door, face and hands numb and nosebleed only barely stopped.

Dave had made dinner while Emily sat on her bathroom counter and told Hotch about Matthew as he daubed her nose with cotton. Hotch had kissed her and said her name and kissed her again and again

Later, after pasta and wine, they all went upstairs and Dave and Hotch had peeled off her clothes, warming her between them.

Dave was reaching to roll on the condom when Emily gathered the courage to put her hand over his. His eyes searched hers and she tried to give him what he was looking for. "Do you want me to pull out?" he asked softly. Emily shook her head.

"I want to feel you," she confessed. "Inside me." Her breath choked her when he pushed in, filled her up. She rested her forehead against his collarbone. held safe against his chest, while Hotch pushed one, then two slicked-up fingers into her ass and then pushed in from behind. She felt dizzy and choking-full, surrounded and safe, and she knew she needed them both, that _this_ was her version of normal.

When she murmured, "Well, if I wasn't going to hell before..." it was Hotch who kissed the back of her neck and said,

"No one ever went to hell for loving too much."

"Or for being loved too much," Dave added, cupping his hand against her face to hide the fall of her tears.

Emily closed her eyes and gave herself up to them and trusted that they were right.

* * *

Aaron blinks awake when Emily's watch beeps. Dave makes a displeased noise and Aaron turns his head to see the clock. It's early, ridiculously early, and Emily presses an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder and murmurs, "Go back to sleep."

He means to, but she moves away, off the bed, and he reaches after her. "Shh," Dave whispers and reaches around, taking Aaron's cock in his hand. He jerks Aaron off slowly, distracting him from the sound of the shower, and Aaron drifts off again once he's come. When he opens his eyes again, the sun is coming through the blinds and Dave is gone, too.

Emily's bag is still against the wall next to the door. Hotch isn't sure if they left or not, so he puts on jeans and a t-shirt, scrapes his hair back, and goes exploring. The apartment smells like coffee, cinnamon, and bacon.

Emily and Dave are in the kitchen with Jack. Dave is unpacking pastries from a white bag and Emily's made a mess of the range. The tv is on and a cup of juice is on the coffee table, which tells a pretty complete story of the morning.

"Wow, what's going on here?" he asks the room at large, looking around at everything. The spread on the kitchen table is actually pretty appetizing - scrambled eggs and bacon, cinnamon rolls from the Italian bakery down the street, and cups of take-out coffee.

"Uncle Dave and Aunt Emily came for breakfast," Jack announces, climbing up on a chair next to where Dave was moving the rolls from the white pastry box to a plate.

"After eggs, kiddo," Dave says, mussing Jack's hair with his palm.

Aaron sees Emily's head turn quickly at Dave's words and looks up at her in time to see her shift her glance to him. She's grinning - tactical error on Dave's part. He's just proven that he _knows_ the rules, so the next time he tries to feed Jack sweets before a meal, he won't be able to use the ignorance defense. Aaron grins back at her because they can hold this over Dave's head _forever_.

 _Forever_. It has a nice ring to it.

* * *

The Reaper had been under Hotch's skin for ten years by the time they went to Boston and dug up George Foyet. He hadn't even had time to adjust to that tiny bit of slack when Foyet busted his way out of East Wolvering.

" _You_ didn't lose him," Dave said loudly, closing the apartment door behind them. "We caught him, we put him away, we did our jobs. Bureau of Prisons failed, if you want to start throwing blame around. They didn't design a prison that could hold him. They didn't keep a close enough eye on their goddamn blueprints. They didn't plan for a killer as smart as Foyet. You want to blame someone, blame them. They're understaffed, underfunded, and planning for Foyet is overkill for 99% of the prison population. But by all means, if you need to take it out on someone, take it out on them. Because you know what we have to do with that? Nothing. We catch 'em. We don't keep 'em."

Aaron threw his briefcase down on the couch with more force than necessary but he wasn't even close to expressing the anger that riddled him. He turned to face Dave in the tiny foyer of the apartment. "There's a lot of people to blame, Dave," he snapped back, "but no one's going to care when bodies start showing up and there's not a damn thing we can do until that starts happening."

Emily was nearly pressed against the wall, out of the line of fire between Aaron and Dave, and Aaron was in the kind of temper that made him want to turn to her and say, _This is what you get for sleeping with your bosses. Plural_. That would have been cruel, though, and she never asked for this.

"Guys doing a job," Dave said again. "When he slips up, we'll be there."

"How many people are going to die before he slips up?" Aaron asked, and then Dave was there, taking his mouth, hard and fast, and Aaron reached blindly for Emily, dragging her in with them.

Aaron let Foyet go for that night, but the Reaper was back under his skin when he opened his eyes, and he knew that when Foyet spoke again, his message would be etched in the blood of new victims.

In a way Aaron could explain to no one, not even - especially not - Dave and Emily, it was a relief when Foyet came to him. He could be Foyet's victim. He knew what he was dealing with. He had a fighting chance.

He still lost.

Dave's voice came to him first, then Morgan, before Emily's, asking if he could remember what happened. Emily stayed with him while Dave took the others to go find Haley and Jack.

He lied to her.

He told her he didn't remember what happened after the first stab of Foyet's knife, and then he let her and Dave turn the state upside-down looking for Foyet so that Haley could come back to him and he could leave them behind.

A week out of the hospital, he finally broke. Emily was sitting in his living room, flipping through an issue of Foreign Policy magazine and sipping at a glass of wine. She and Dave traded off, sometimes one, sometimes the other, occasionally both, but he was rarely alone, even when he most wanted to be.

"I remember everything," he said. Something was on the television, he wasn't even sure what. It was probably something he'd wanted to watch, too, before he felt compelled to confess to Emily.

Emily looked up from her magazine. "All of it?" she asked, her expression wary, on the edge of crumpling into something anguished.

Aaron closed his eyes and nodded. She knew the extent of it. The hospital had been thorough in documenting his injuries.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. It's what she'd asked before he'd lied to her.

"No," he said, because he didn't. "But. The profile." He heard her move, heard her shift to the arm of the couch, her feet pressing into the cushion next to him.

"Tell me," she said.

He did, every word, every thrust of the knife, every stab of Foyet inside him.

"Dave thinks he's a hebophile," Emily said thoughtfully, when he was done. "Maybe he is impotent, or was, when faced with partners of his true preference, because of the social stigma."

"Which is when he started knifing his victims," Aaron agreed, grateful that Emily had started working the profile instead of worrying about him.

"But he liked it," she added. "He got off on it. Causing pain and terror arouses him."

"The knife works for him. It prolongs the pain and the terror, which in turn arouses him. It's not a substitute. It's a means." Aaron's wounds throbbed. It was far past time for more painkillers, but he could think for the first time in days, reason things out, work the profile. "Emily."

"Hm?" She was thinking, too, and he hated to interrupt.

"Please don't tell Dave."

He heard her little sigh and then, "Which part?"

"Don't tell him that I remember," Aaron said, thinking of Dave's wary eyes and careful hands. "He's worried enough about it as is."

"He's worried about _you_ ," Emily said, "not when he can have sex with you again."

Aaron opened his eyes and turned his head to look her directly in the face for the first time since they'd started down this road. At his gaze, Emily rolled her eyes.

"Okay, yeah," she conceded. "He is probably wondering that. But you know he doesn't want to hurt you or upset you."

"I know," Aaron said quietly. "Isn't that the problem?"

Emily smiled ruefully and reached for Aaron's hand, folding her fingers through his. "I know," she said. "He's a little overwhelming. It's part of his charm. It's pretty much all of his charm. But he doesn't know how to be any other way."

Aaron looked at their joined hands. Emily kept her nails short and unpolished, which somehow made her hands look smaller than they were. Her palm pressed hot against his and he wanted to feel it against his leg, against his cock, against the throbbing wounds, healing so slowly and tenuously. He licked his lower lip.

"I'm not supposed to do anything strenuous," he said hesitantly.

"Yeah, like worry," Emily said obliviously. "Are you watching this? Do you want me to put in a DVD or something?"

Aaron pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. Her eyes widened. "You're not supposed to do anything strenuous," she said, but her fingers tightened around his.

"It doesn't have to be strenuous," he said, because it didn't, not for _him_ anyway. "I want you right now," he murmured, because he did, just her, not Dave. He wanted to take the comfort that they'd offered him so many times, but he didn't want Dave doing what Foyet did, didn't want the weight of Dave's body pinning him down.

"Okay," Emily said, pressing her free hand to his face and kissing him. "Okay, I'm right here. I don't want to hurt you," she added, ducking her head to frown at his body as if it were a particularly interesting puzzle to fit together. "Let me see."

He slid his hand around the back of her head and pulled her back to his mouth, kissing her more thoroughly. They could do this. This was fine. He had to stop to breathe, and she tugged his lower lip between her teeth before shifting away, sliding down to kneel between his legs. "Here," she said. "Let's try this."

He was wearing loose sweatpants, and she pulled them down over his cock and dragged the waistband between his ass and the couch. He couldn't lift up to help her, his stomach muscles were useless, but it was okay. They were far enough down his thighs that she could work him out of his boxers and was stroking the curve of him with her thumb. He wasn't all the way hard, like he'd thought, but her touch was getting him there. He remembered the last time they'd been together without Dave, the only time, really. Dave had been away on a book tour and he'd eaten her out and she'd fucked him with a strap-on. Dave had been on the phone the whole time, listening and jerking off, and it had been a little awkward the next morning without him.

They agreed that it was fine - two of them sleeping together without the other. Aaron knew that was really meant for him. Dave and Emily were together, before, during, and after. She spent more time at Dave's house than her own and when Dave said, "Just assume I'm fucking her every night," Aaron didn't question.

But one night, Emily kissed them each on the mouth and said, "I'm going to sit in the chair," and Dave and Aaron sucked each other off. Emily crawled in with them afterward and Dave folded an arm over her stomach, and Aaron recognized menstrual cramps when he saw them. Dave almost never turned down sex, but Emily was hit or miss during her period and Aaron didn't mind spending time with just Dave.  
Aaron and Emily just hadn't, though. He loved fucking her with Dave there, and they'd had that time on the phone, but there weren't a lot of nights Dave wasn't around anyway, and for the most part, the idea of them alone just hadn't come up.

Now, right now, though, she was all his, one hand curled around his thigh, just over the waistband of his sweatpants, the other cupping the base of his cock, tilting it into her mouth. Her eyes darted up as her lips closed over him, and she teased with her tongue as she sucked him. Her mouth was wet and heated, close all around him, even when she stopped sucking long enough to pull in a breath. Aaron's hands trembled and he clenched them into fists to suppress it. Other muscles trembled, too, but he couldn't do anything about those.

"Emily," he whispered, and cleared his throat. "Emily," he tried again.

Emily opened her mouth and lifted her head, catching his cock in her hand and rubbing him with her thumb. "What is it?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Hotch winced as her thumb brushed over the ridge at the head and muttered, "oh yeah," before he could help himself. "Can you?" He glanced down at his dick, at the flushed head crowning her loosely closed hand. "Can you sit on my lap? Can we try that? I want to be inside of you."

"Yeah, okay," Emily said, letting go of him a little too quickly and standing up. "We just have to be careful, right?" she said, her voice muffled when she pulled her shirt over her head. "Nothing strenuous. You'll tell me if something hurts?"

He nodded, his gaze drawn to the swell of her breasts over her white cotton bra. It was far from the sexiest thing he'd seen her in - Dave apparently had really excellent taste in lingerie - but suddenly he couldn't wait to get his hands on her, couldn't wait to press his mouth over that cotton, find her nipple beneath it, wet it down until it clung to her.

"I have condoms in my bag," she said, shoving her pants off her hips. "Let me just - " She kicked her pants off and went around the couch to find the messenger bag she'd dumped on the floor when she'd come in. Aaron squeezed his cock, wet from her mouth and a surge of pre-come, and watched her return to him. "Here," she said, kneeling on the couch next to him. She ripped the packet open and rolled the condom down on him. He knew she and Dave sometimes didn't use a condom and he knew it wasn't a birth control thing or a medical issue. He suspected it was related to her pregnancy and abortion in Italy, but he didn't push and they always used them together. He'd protest but he knew that if he had to the chance to go back to Haley, he wouldn't hesitate.

Emily shimmied out of her underwear and straddled his lap. He could feel her heat as his cock brushed up between her legs, against her thigh, and he reached down and steadied it. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. His mouth felt dry as he kissed her back, and he stretched his fingers upward, brushing them against her wet heat. She lowered herself and together they got his cock inside her. She shifted slightly, rocking on him, and then she pulled her mouth away from his. "Aaron," she whispered.

He managed to smile a little, though he didn't feel like it. He felt tired, achy, and as sweet at is felt to finally be inside her, he could feel the stab wounds burning, pulling, and felt helpless. "I'm sorry," he said.

Emily looked alarmed. "Are you hurting?" she asked.

"No," he said quickly. "I just - " He broke off, frustrated, and shook his head.

"Shh," Emily said. "It's okay." She lifted up, almost off, the air cool against Aaron's cock, what he could feel where the condom didn't cover. Then she sank back down, not hard, but fast and firmly, and _yes_. That was what he wanted.

"Again," he said.

"Like this?" she asked, lifting and sinking again. She did it twice more, asking for confirmation after each one, and then she started riding him, a steady assault on his cock, fucking herself on him like he was just a toy and he loved it. He touched her, hands on her hips, then her ass, and then he was undoing her bra and letting it drop between them just so he could get his mouth on her breasts. He couldn't lean forward, the wounds in his stomach were too fresh, but she lifted them to his lips, dipped each one inside, before filling herself with his cock again. He sucked at her nipples and gripped her legs too tightly and felt the pressure build in his thighs, his balls, the base of his spine. It built and built and he gritted his teeth in frustration when his body refused him that final release. He hung on, tried to push through, and then Emily said, "Let me try something."

She pulled off, which was a relief as much as anything, and then pulled the condom off him. There was lubricant in the bedroom and she brought it back to the couch and knelt between his legs. Aaron tensed, but she just slicked her palms and started massaging his balls and the base of his cock.

"Emily," he sighed, as the tension started coiling again.

"Shh," she said. "Just go with it."

He did, he tried, letting her stroke him into a state of heady arousal. She urged him to shift on the couch, lie back against the pillows on the arm, and pushed one leg up. He felt her fingers behind his balls, stroking the delicate patch of skin and his breath caught. "God, Emily, that's good," he said, reaching for her.

She caught his hand in hers, which was a little soft from the lube but not sticky. "Can I touch you back here?" she asked, the fingers of her other hand drifting back to the curve of his ass. "Do you want me not to?"

"No, go, go ahead," Aaron said. It wouldn't be like Foyet. Emily's fingers were small and slick and they skated around, tracing circles on his skin, gentle and loving, the way she always touched him. It wasn't like Foyet at all.

"Is this okay?" she asked, slipping one finger a little bit inside.

He nodded then said, "Yes. It's fine."

She slid her finger the rest of the way in and found his prostate, pressed on it.

Aaron groaned as the pleasure pushed through his body and made his ears pop. "That's it," she said. "Just relax."

It was pretty hard to just relax when she kept rubbing that spot, and after a moment, he let go of her hand to work his cock.

"You want some help?" she asked, folding her hand around the flesh that his wasn't covering. Her hand was slick again and she circled her thumb over the head again and again, until he was tightening and coming, and spilling through her fingers and over her hand.

Aaron covered his eyes with his hand and tried to focus on getting air into his lungs again. He felt dizzy, spent, stripped bare, and the stitches burned against his skin.

Emily collapsed on the other end of the couch, lazily licking his come off the hand she had used to jerk him off. "Hotch," she said suddenly.

"Hm?" he responded, nearly dozing off. He made an effort to open his eyes and tried to turn his head to see if he could get a fair enough angle to see her.

"You're way past due for your pills," Emily said, and Aaron tried not to groan out loud. He didn't want them, didn't like the fuzzy feeling and really didn't like what they were doing to his ability to ejaculate. She got up and he heard water running in the kitchen as she washed her hands and got him a glass. She sat the glass and the pills on the coffee table and stepped into her panties and got her bra on before helping him sit up carefully. He took the pills with the glass of water, and then turned his head to look at her.

"Are you going to tell Dave about this?" Aaron asked as Emily sprawled back against the couch.

"He'll know," Emily said, shifting.

"Will he be okay?" Aaron asked

"He and I fuck without you," she said. "Do you guys fuck without me?"

"No," Aaron said. "I mean, you know about it. Or you're there."

Emily ran her hand through his hair. "I'll talk to him," she said. "He'll be okay." She leaned in. "I'll tell him how hot it was, in vivid detail, and he'll love it." She kissed Aaron on the mouth and he sighed.

Aaron dozed off on the couch and when he woke up, Dave was at the door with food, and Emily was dressed again. "Hey," he said groggily.

"Hey," Dave said, sliding a palm against the back of Aaron's neck. "Em says you're getting some energy back." His grin was dirty and Aaron felt a twinge of dread in his gut anyway.

"Yeah, but I wore him out," Emily interrupted, pressing her face into the curve of Dave's neck and kissing the sensitive skin there. Dave shivered and Aaron felt a little better.

"I brought you soup," Dave said. "And some rice. I don't think you're quite up to egg foo young just yet."

"You can have a protein shake, though," Emily offered, running her hand over his shoulder.

"Oh boy," Aaron muttered, though the soup and the rice did sound like a nice treat.

Emily left the paper bags of food on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to get beers and Aaron's protein shake and Dave sat on the couch next to Aaron. "Hey," he said, setting his hand on Aaron's knee. Aaron turned his head to the side, met Dave's serious, concerned gaze. "You know I'm fine with you and Emily being together, right?" he said.

Aaron gave Dave his best smile. "As long as we tell you how hot it was? In vivid detail?"

Dave's smile in response was small, but more genuine than Aaron's own. "As long as it was hot," he said. "You don't have to tell me anything. Not that I wouldn't welcome such details."

"Stop being a dirty old man," Emily ordered him, coming out of the kitchen and poking him in the back of the neck with a cold beer bottle.

"I can't help it," Dave said, catching her around the waist and pulling her into his lap. He snagged one of the bottles of beer she carried and leaned back so she could pass Hotch his chalky glass of calories. "You two make it hard to behave myself." He kissed Emily's cheek and winked at Aaron.

Aaron watched Emily lean back and kiss Dave, and desperately missed his family.

Dave noticed, kept watch on Aaron, but also kept his own counsel. Aaron thought that maybe after the first few times, he'd stop thinking of Foyet when Dave touched him, but that wasn't true - he _always_ thought about Foyet, whether it was Dave, or Emily, or his own hand, whether he was in bed or in the office, or watching videos of Jack that Sam Kassmeyer had sent him, and no matter what else happened, no matter what other case took precedent, it never took more than a single unfocused moment for Foyet to slide back into Aaron's mind.

In the months Haley and Jack were gone, Aaron thought he might go mad without Emily and Dave. And he did go a little mad, down in the bowels of Red Onion's Supermax facility, looking at the Reaper's signature over his own face. Emily's voice, sounding far away and underwater, drowned by the cacophony of the inmates, shouts and howls and taunts mixing together into the most unholy background noise as Foyet's name seared away in his brain, branding everything he thought of, everything he looked at, a bloody red eye superimposed by his own imagination.

Outside, finally, without stopping to retrieve his weapon, he got a grip, in the sunlight and the air and with Emily's voice coalescing into words as his ears stopped ringing.

"Foyet," he said, staring at her, as if he could ground himself in her eyes and her voice and the tentative touch of her fingertips on his arm.

"I know," Emily said, nodding. "We'll get him."

Aaron shut his eyes against her and turned away. They _wouldn't_ get him, they _hadn't_ gotten him, he was still out there.

"The letters, Hotch," Emily said, her fingers catching on his wrist. "Dave had them sent to our lab in Quantico. They'll give us something. Prints, DNA maybe, a postmark if nothing else. He had to mail them from somewhere. He's not going to be far away."

And he wasn't.

* * *

 _Epilogue_

  
_Haley Brooks Hotchner  
Beloved Mother, Sister, Friend, Wife  
April 30, 1971 - November 25, 2009  
The world spun a little faster with her in it._   


"I'm glad you added wife," Jessica says as they watch Jack lean a white rose against his mother's freshly installed headstone.

"I wasn't sure if I should," Aaron replies, watching the rose fall down and Jack's little frown as he tries to make it stay up. "We weren't married anymore."

Jessica shakes her head. "It wasn't right without it." She rubs the corner of her eye and the side of her nose with three fingers and Aaron pretends not to notice. "Your wedding day was the happiest day of her life." She smiles as Jack succeeds in getting the rose to stay propped against the stone. "Until the day Jack was born."

Jack comes back then and presses his face against Aaron's leg.

"She'll always be part of your life," Jessica adds quietly. "And you were always part of hers."

Aaron boosts Jack up, although he's starting to get too big for that, and kisses the top of his head. Jessica leans in to kiss Jack goodbye and makes her way back to where she's parked her car.

There were a lot of things Aaron can't remember about the day Haley died.

There were a lot of things he remembers and doesn't want to.

Somewhere between them is a recollection of asking Dave to take care of Jack, to hold him and take him somewhere else. There is a sense of Emily, her fingers gentle as she unknots his tie from around his neck and folds it away, tucks it into a plastic evidence bag and seals the bag tightly.

Between them is the memory of laying Jack in his bed in the apartment where Foyet attacked him, sitting on the floor and covering his mouth, but not his eyes, because he couldn't bear to take them off Jack. Dave and Emily were in the living room, watching the door, keeping them safe. Eventually he must have gotten off the floor, stumbled into the living room, something else he doesn't remember.

"Ready to go, buddy?" he whispers to Jack.

Jack nods. "Are we going to go see Uncle Dave and Aunt Emily?" he asks.

"Yep," Aaron says. "They're at home, waiting for us."

What he does remember is the scent of Emily's skin as he pressed his face against her neck, the timbre of Dave's voice and the way he vibrated through his chest as he held Aaron from behind, speaking words of comfort Aaron can't remember anymore. He remembers the touch of Emily's fingers on his face, her hair against his nose, Dave's beard on his cheek.

He remembers the space they made for him, the limits of safety and comfort, bounded between their bodies. He remembers falling there, collapsing in that space, losing control again that day, falling apart. And he remembers being put back together.

In the deepest, darkest recesses of what he knows to be true, he remembers their voices whispering, "We love you," and the steady beat of his heart, answering when he didn't have the words.

Today, now, he knows exactly what he wants to say.


End file.
